Victor's Mate
by Britt601
Summary: Victor has a thing for making females his "personal play toy" to pass the time. But when he finds a woman with a bit of a stubborn backbone, can he accept her as his equal, and not his playmate? VictorXOC. Editing in progress.
1. Uncharmed Introduction

**Well. It's been a while since I've revisited this story and I have to say that it is one of my best (insert HEAVY sarcasm here). Just kidding. I have grown much as a writer since I first posted this story, and it's always good to go back and fix up little bits and pieces of work that I have done. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel characters presented in this story. I do own Anaya and other OC's that I have made and any likeness to other comic-book characters is unintentional. Characters may appear a **little** OOC, since this if FF, so I apologize ahead of time. And for those of you who expect Mr. Creed to fall in love within the first few chapters, if AT ALL, then I humbly apologize for that too, lol.**

**Rated M for violence, mature themes, language, and sexuality. **

**Whew! Now that that's out the way, enjoy the story!**

**Chapter 1: Uncharmed Introduction**

He had just finished off another little girl, leaving her bruised and bloodied body in a hotel room. Spring break was his favorite holiday because thousands of unsuspecting misses let their guards down. Hell, picking out prey had never been so easy. All the girls were rambunctious, wild, and free; oblivious to anything other than drinking, partying and sex. Then again, it wasn't really prey because he wasn't _chasing_ any down. He would simply walk up to a drunken girl and carry her off to an abandoned hotel room. He would let them sober up a bit, then the real fun would begin. That was several weeks ago however; before he found a potential mate that he could call his own and play with whenever he felt like it.

**S-s-S-s-S**

Creed walked into a seedy bar, feeling the need to lay low for a while after engaging in a violent bout with several police officers. Was is really so hard for them to leave him alone? It wasn't his fault that the cops were sticking their noses in business affairs that were of no concern to them. Victor at the time was confronting a man who happened to interfere with his "conversation" that he held with an escort. Had the man simply just went about his day instead of trying to save the damsel in distress, he would have lived to see another day. Had the cops not shown up and try to play the good Samaritan role either, they could've been on their way home to their loving families. This was just another day in the life of Victor Creed. His life was full of violence from the bearings of a young boy, so he didn't feel the need to spare anyone from his lack of sympathy.

He strolled into the dark place and took in the various scents that mingled inside there, eyeing the various low-life patrons once before he went up to the bar to order himself a beer. Once he secured him a spot on a swiveling barstool, he took notice of the barkeep. The barkeep was an elderly-looking woman who'd probably seen better years previous. She had a square-shaped jawline with hazel-green eyes and curly bleached hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. Her body was leaning on the waifish side with her body fat hanging out in all the wrong places. But he wasn't interested in her anyway; she probably wouldn't last the first round of his 'sexual ministrations'. Upon receiving his order, he turned around in his seat and observed the rest of the scenery in the dimly lit place.

Cops were too busy to look for any thieves and criminals in this part of town since it was so ran down. Dealings of the illegal kind took place in here on a weekly basis. As long as the crooks gave the crooked cops a share of their contraband proceeds, then they steered clear of this area on purpose, allowing for the sordid business ventures to continue. So it was no surprise that the bar inhabited prostitutes, scumbag businessmen, and the youth who thought that this side of _life_ was far more interesting to live in.

Victor chugged down his drink, letting the cool, brown liquid quench the dryness of his throat as he observed the visitors of the bar. In the far left booth was a 50-ish looking man with a busty brunette sitting across from him. Her eye makeup appeared to be drawn on with a black sharpie, failing to let her eye color be seen, it was so shrouded in that black shit. She kept flipping her hair back over her shoulder and extending her slim neck to the man across from her, creating light touches on his skin. The old man smiled a big smile for her, his crooked, white teeth gleaming in the overhead lamp above them. But Victor knew that this wasn't the love of his life, made painfully known by the white line showing on his wedding finger. And the woman wasn't really that interested in him either, a barely concealed thigh holster outlined in the tight, thigh-high dress she was wearing. Her john was probably somewhere near in case any trouble had blossomed.

Creed looked over to the other side of the bar and noticed two young teens sitting across from each other. Her cheeks were a rosy pink that went well with her sun-kissed skin. Her golden-brown hair was bone straight and it enhanced her heart-shaped face. The boy at the table was more interested in his poison of choice rather than his girlfriend who looked like she wished she could take this night back. If her freshly, deflowered scent was anything to go by, then he was pretty sure that her first time wasn't all that special. The boy probably worked his charm on her like a pro only to get a piece of her ass. If Creed were to judge solely by the expression on her face, he would say that she was _tremendously_ disappointed. She probably filled her head with those sappy romance novels telling of how the girl had a 'pleasant orgasm' with the one she would 'spend the rest of her life' with. As if the young boy read her thoughts, he languidly looked over to her and gave her a half-assed smile and an impish shrug. Victor only proved himself correct when the look of longing and expectance shone brightly through her eyes. The teen male probably gave a few, hard strokes before he emptied himself into her.

Her first time had been _awful_.

He could probably go over there, snatch her up and show her what it's really like to have her cherry popped by a professional. And just for her he would go real slow, making sure he roamed over every inch of her body, finding out her sweet spots and just what would make her toes curl inward; to make her forget her first sexual encounter that she would no doubt regret from this day forth.

But for things such as these, his patience was particularly short. Sex to him, when limited on time, was all about pulling it out, sticking it in, emptying itself, and tucking it back. Kids these days don't know a damn thing about doing anything right.

He finished observing the degenerates of the bar with a dispassionate sigh, about to order another round when a particular mingling of scents stood out from the rest; the smell of blackberries and vanilla, mixed in with a faint scent of the sanguine liquid that he grew to know like another sense.

Creed inhaled long and hard until his curvy nose lead his face to where the scents originated from, eyes landing on a woman sitting sideways alone at a table. From this angle, her side profile appeared pleasant to his eyes, wondering if he would get to see the other half of her face; the lighting in this place high-lighted the physique of her body. He silently watched her as she brought her forefinger up to lick a red substance off of it; trailing her finger around her mouth in a lazy manner. Despite how casual and calm she seemed about it, he couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't human. Then again, there were just _eccentric_ people out in the world who did all kinds of crazy shit.

As his vision took in the innocent yet strangely erotic act, her other features came much more apparent to him. Her chocolate skin looked soft and creamy to the touch, the light she was under showed how even and smooth it appeared. Straight blue-black hair settled across the middle of her back; the side part of her hair angled her slim face. A deep halter V-neck barely covered her massive side breasts that lifted ever so lightly every time she breathed. White jeans made her derriere seem bigger than what it really was; maybe her rump really was that shapely. Low-heeled black boots made her lengthy legs look all the more shapely every time she tapped her foot on the floor. The bartender behind him cleared her throat once before she yelled for Anaya to come and get her drinks. The woman he looked at sighed tiredly before she got up to get her order.

"Anaya," said Creed slowly, as if he was tasting her name, figuring she'd fit the bill for his next little excursion.

She didn't look _little_, though. In fact, she was a leggy-looking specimen. Probably reaching to a height of 6 ft., 5'11 without shoes. She practically towered over almost all the below-than-average height males, making sure to give her own little indignant snub at the various men that stopped their actions to drink in her curves. Little Miss Anaya was too shapely to be a model for she would stick out like a definite sore thumb amongst her scrawny-limbed counterparts; probably one of those music groupies that was fucking the brains out of those celebrities. But she just didn't _seem_ like the type of person to have that kind of profession. Something about her was very demanding and very regal, very mysterious, very…enticing. As she approached the bar, she quickly looked at Victor, her deep purple eyes sparkling in the dimly lit light.

So she was probably a mutie. Not too many people walked around with that type of eye color, and there was a high doubt that the eye color was due to a birth defect of some sort. The 'wanting' aspect of her doubled since he saw that one little detail about her. Maybe she had some kind of super power hidden beneath her cool exterior and wouldn't hesitate to let it out. He held a strong notion that she _was_ going to 'let it out' all right once he 'asked' to take her home for the night. His gaze never left her, watching the subtle way she swayed her hips while she walked. She probably wasn't all that tough as she played out to be because he felt a slight increase in her body temperature, the subtle hint of a salty substance coming to the forefront as he continued to stare at her; she was going to be an easy catch as the scent of fear played on his nostrils. Victor slowly unmasked a sensual grin, watching her slightly cringe under his harsh gaze.

"_The little kitten's claws are retractable," _he thought, chuckling as he made plans on what he would do to her.

Anaya quickly made her way back to her chair, making a point to sit where she wouldn't be facing the leering man who stared her down with that ruthless gaze of his. Soon after, an olive-toned woman wearing her raven-dark hair in a high-ponytail came flouncing back to the table that Anaya was sitting at, her strapless black shirt complemented the short, camo skirt and high heels she sported with high authority. She was the same height as her purple-eyed friend, though her curves weren't as pronounced.

"May I ask you what took you so long my dear Valerie?"

"You already did my dear. If you must know, I was simply cornered by this _stud _of a man who asked who wore the pants in my relationship. Then he was begging to get in my pants."

"Funny, you're not wearing any."

"Exactly."

"Can you at least wear a skirt that covers you up to mid-thigh the next time we go out? I can clearly see the roundness of the bottom of your derriere trying to peek out from under that skirt. Don't want to sound like a hovering mother, but shame on you."

"Yeah. Sure. I'll do that as soon as you learn how to wear a bra, Mrs. Tit Queen."

"This shirt does not allow me to wear one."

"Just like this skirt doesn't allow me to wear my _bra_ down _there_. Oh goody, my drink is ready." Valerie took her orange liqueur as she stared into the gawking face of her friend, taking a sip of her drink merrily as if she just didn't tell her friend that she decided to forgo her underwear.

"Well, aren't you such a fucking lady." Anaya said, closing her mouth quickly so as to not look like she was catching flies.

"Every damn day."

The purple-eyed woman grabbed her red liqueur and began to sip hers as well, eyes shifting ever so slightly to glance at the far-off look her friend was displaying at the moment. Twenty seconds later found Anaya snapping her fingers to regain her friend's attention from whatever she was engrossed herself in.

"Earth to Valerie, come in please."

"I never left earth, sweetie. I'm just wondering what the fuck that guy is looking at." Anaya had a hunch as to who she was talking about; the reason why she sat looking away from him.

"The one with the horrible side burns and grey eyes?"

"Yeah that would be the one."

Anaya gave an irritated snort, "He's been staring since I went up there to get the drinks."

"Well, he was trying to burn holes through your back when I first looked at him, then he was staring at me for staring at him, and we are still doing this stare-off as of my speaking."

"Okay, now stop staring. Maybe he's an innocent bystander who just...thought that I was interesting to look at. I don't know..." Anaya took another sip of her drink when out of the shadows came a handsome _stud_ that seemingly made a beeline towards her table.

"Or maybe he's waiting on you to turn around so he can give you the come-over-here-so-I -can-talk-you-into-letting-me-fuck-your-brains-out speech."

The mutantess quickly spurted out her drink all onto the table as she broke out into mini-coughing fits, patting her chest to try and cease her coughing while Valerie went on as if this was every day conversation.

Well for _her_ it was.

Valerie Conrad was not the typical woman. Though she blended well into the human population, she was born a mutant. A mutant that had the power of longevity with a twist. With most mutants cursed with the gift of an extended life, they had the ability to heal from any fatal injuries that would kill a human on the spot. Unfortunately for her this is not so. If she sustained such injuries, she had better hoped that there was a medically proficient hospital nearby.

_Fortunately_ for her however, this longevity came with its benefits, mainly through the various wealthy husbands that she managed to outlive. She dared not tell her husbands what she truly was for fear of them rejecting her. After all, the ones that were genuinely attracted to her was the rotund bigot, sexist, human trafficking, corrupt "businessmen" who saw her as a mere trophy wife. Out of these marriages came a multitude of summer houses, safe houses, bank accounts, cars, jets, jewelry, clothing, stocks and the like, excluding _any_ children mind you. It's not like she didn't want any of the bastards, it's just the possibility that she would have to end up burying her children instead of them doing that to her due to her mutant abilities. Husbands came and went in her eyes, but her children, should she ever decide to have any, would take a fundamental piece away with them should there be a chance of them not inheriting her abilities and she just couldn't endure.

And it wasn't like her husbands were _excellent_ providers in having children anyways.

Something just happens to the male sex drive when they hit their 50's it seems and they just can't keep it up. Well, _her_ husbands couldn't keep it up for very long for she'd been to bed with some 50 and 60 year olds before, and their stamina was on par with that of a 20 year old. Then again, maybe it had to do with the fact that her husbands possessed less than impressive johns to begin with, what with being fat and lazy as hell. Which is one of the very reasons why she _loved_ her young and athletic stallions.

When Anaya finished her coughing onslaught, she meekly pointed towards the man who came into full view of Valerie, smiling ever so brightly at her.

The sexy brunette sure did know how to pick them. How she was able to pick up the most gorgeous breeds of the male species to have her trysts with was astounding, and how she married the ugliest fuckers was beyond Anaya's comprehension.

"Are you trying to escape me, woman? Trying to make me file a missing persons report?"

Smooth. Suave. Sexy. Strong. Handsome. Gorgeous. Charming. Charismatic.

One of the _best_ types the male species has to offer or the _worst_. Never in between.

Anaya gave a small smirk in admiration of the sight set before her. He had shaggy, black hair that stopped right at his neck. The way it was parted gave off that sensual, dangerous vibe or played off the shy type should he shake his hair into his bright, emerald eyes. He wore an un-tucked, black dress shirt that was rolled up to his forearms and dark blue jeans, completing the look with black, dressy shoes. This bar was way too seedy and unkempt for him to be dressed so nicely.

"Oh. You again. You followed me," Valerie played off the surprise in a _horrible_ manner, mouth splitting into two as she gave off a smile that would make Julia Roberts envious. She crossed her stilts and rested her chin in her left hand, brown eyes looking everywhere except at Anaya and her handsome admirer. Her crossed legs began to sway the heightened one back and forth; said raised leg hitting the side of Anaya's every so often.

"So, you're the one who kept my Valerie away from me for so long," Anaya gave him a sweet smile while she kicked her friend back under the table.

"Yes ma'am. This one was trying to play slick since she first saw me so I had to try and catch her. My name is Josh by the way. And what is your name, miss?" Josh held his hand out in a gentlemanly manner while his gaze pierced Anaya all the way to her soul. A magnetic-like pull from his sight made Anaya feel a little bit woozy, like she spun around in circles for a full minute and needed to land on _him_ for a minute to recuperate. She shook her head once to get rid of that feeling and offered him her hand, smiling along as she did it. "My name is Anaya."

"Hmm, such a beautiful name for such a beautiful woman." Josh took her hand and kissed it, offering her the smallest bit of tongue to go along with the gesture.

Such a charming bastard, indeed. So charming that Anaya felt a pang of jealousy rise up within her at her best friend's '_free spirit'_.

Questions were raised once and many times thereafter about the many men that Valerie could just go off and have an affair with, while concurrently being married. Sure she didn't love any of her husbands as they didn't really love her, but she was _married_. Her vagina belonged to her _husband_ and his penis belonged to _her_. She should have found out beforehand if the sex might be awful before she said 'I do'. Anaya just wouldn't' feel right with herself if she presumed a relationship with someone and she hitched her carriage all the while. No matter if the love withered away and both were miserable, separate and file for divorce to try at love again. But some people just don't operate in that way, seeing as she couldn't really love due to the mortality rate in humans. Well, at least Valerie kept the ' til death do us part' alive, she made _sure_ of that.

"Why thank you," Anaya smiled big, bright and wide, letting the tip of her sharp incisor show. She geared up to ask him what his intentions were with Valerie when she could have sworn she heard a low growl emanating from behind her. It sounded practically inaudible to the other two at the table, but the growl might as well have been right next to her ear. Dare she turn around and see where that sound came from and what the fuck made it? The only one who sat behind her existed that menacing creep. Though he did seem somewhat animalistic in nature, so would it be safe to assume that _he _made that noise?

She took a long sip from her drink, just wondering how many outside relationships Valerie has had since she knew her, and how many hearts she broke in consequence. Every marriage of hers always had a potent plaything on the side where she could toss him away when the marriage deteriorated. Since her partnerships with the supposed 'man of her life' didn't reach to orgasmic endings because they claimed she was "frigid" in bed, she had to go out, secretly, and find someone who could take care of her bodily cravings. She explained her most pressing response to these accusations.

"Frigid is a man's word for a woman who can't have an orgasm in two minutes with the kind of stimulation that _works_ for _him_, or because of a man's lack of sexual finesse in bed."

Thus, one of the reasons why she went out and found someone who did have all her requirements for sex. She came to be a sexual woman and proud of it; something Anaya thought she followed suit in...if she could only find 'the one' to express that to.

With a final resolve to let her friend enjoy her limited time with her apparent new beau, she sighed deeply before she decided to cut her three week vacation with her friend short. "I'm pretty sure you kiddies have somewhere else to be, after all it is a gorgeous night out tonight."

She could practically see Josh's face twitch into a thousand happy emotions at her mentioning of what he planned on doing. He didn't want to rush the woman since she mingled with her friend, but his loins began to grow agitated the longer he waited.

Valerie stopped her eye roaming to settle on her friend, startled that she would want to end their girls' night early, but slightly relieved because the anticipation to maul her anxious lover became maddening. However, she would not put her bestest before some dick without having her full consent, especially if they were out on the town enjoying each other. Truth be told, she took this little 'vacation' to get away from her current husband; he became involved in some scandal with the government and she didn't want any part of that; not for support, as his alibi, nothing at all. She was due back to him two weeks ago, but decided that her friendship betokened _way _more important than her flimsy marriage, so her girl time with the woman she practically grew up with persevered. If only for this final night that she would be spending with the dark-haired stud before she went back to her pathetically sexless marriage.

"What makes you think I want to end this night so early, my dear?"

"Because I know _you_ Valerie. And if you don't do something fun and exhilarating before you go back home, you'll be kidnapping _me_ to do something fun and exhilarating _with_ you. We have time to do a whole globe of shit and you know that, so take Prince Charming here and _charm_ him." She gave Josh a knowing wink and a kick to her friend under the table, leaving no room for any arguments.

Valerie felt a deep appreciation for she knew that her bond with Anaya was stronger than a bond of blood relation. The shit that they went through over the decades of their existence withstood to the test of time...and each other. She helped Anaya cope through her perplexing powers, and she with her sour relationships. She suddenly didn't want to spend her night with her sex god just for that fact alone. She tried to give one more go to convince Anaya otherwise, albeit weakly.

"Well, yeah but-"

"Do you want your old-man pug to send a search party for you?"

"..."

"That's what I thought."

"So, screw that old-man pug." Valerie gave her most child-like pout to prove her point.

"I hate that old-man pug." Anaya said deadpanned.

"Same here, but-"

"Then it's settled."

"But what are you going to do for fun? Unless, like, you give your stalker a piece of your pus-"

"Oh look at the time! You two should really be heading out!" Anaya reached over and grabbed Josh and Valerie in each hand and pulled them from their table to the door. Valerie slid her eyes over to Victor once more and assessed that he wasn't that bad of a look, a little creepy and menacing-looking, but definitely worthy of one-night stand status in her book. In her not so subtle way, she gave an alluring wink to the imposing man, giving him a hidden message that her friend was available and open for the taking.

Anaya turned around and quickly ushered her friend to the door, but not before giving her a firm smack on the behind for giving that imposing figure a wink. She didn't have to look behind her to see that her friend batted an eye, she _knew_ that she did it from years of experience.

Once the purple-eyed woman pushed both patrons out the door, she quickly turned Valerie around and gave her an endearing hug, burying her nose in her hair for it would be a minute before she saw her again. It was rare moments like these did Anaya wonder why her friend chose to torture herself like this; marriage after marriage, boyfriend after boyfriend and nothing meaningful came out of it, material possessions included. Valerie claimed that she could spend her ill-gotten fortune with someone who would always be there for her instead of anyone with a mortality attached to their lifespan, and that children were simply out of the picture because her mutant abilities would not be enough to save her children from such feats. She was convinced countless times to have children just to see what would happen, but to no avail.

When the question turned around on her, Anaya simply said she waited for the right time, or rather, the right guy.

"I-don't-wanna-go," Valerie pretended to mock cry, but the slight quiver in her voice said otherwise.

"You have no choice but to, besides, I'm heading eastward and you know I won't pass by without seeing you, you big baby."

The brunette knew her friend to be right, but goodbyes were always so bittersweet and she didn't like to go through with them...unless for the funerals of her husbands and flings then she could care less. The memories of their time together flooded Valerie's memories like a waterfall, pouring all over her mind as she remembered the various shopping outlets visited, the many spas enjoyed, the multiple eateries devoured...

Valerie grabbed Anaya by the shoulders and looked her firmly in her face, all emotions gone from her face and replaced with a stern one. "You did eat, right?"

"Um, we ate like four hours ago."

"No, the other 'eat'."

"Oh, that one...nope."

"Anaya! It's been nearly two weeks!"

Anaya took a quick glance at Josh before looking back at her friend, conveying that they shouldn't talk right in front of the handsome devil. Valerie, taking the hint, pulled him further along the building and told him to wait there, but not before grabbing his crotch in a firm hold before telling him, "Wait one minute, gotta get some girl talk in."

She made her way back to Anaya to resume talking, seeing the woman dramatically roll her eyes at the action before she approached.

"How can you go nearly two weeks without sucking some poor fool dry?"

"Well, when could I? We were inescapable from each other for nearly three weeks."

"You could have slipped out during the night and slipped back in unnoticed." Valerie's tone had moved down to a more serious, patronizing tone for she had witnessed Anaya's _other_ side come out to play when her thirst became unbearable. Her mutant powers may have been exactly like the walking dead, but their one weakness became amplified if her one requirement failed completion.

"Valerie, you don't need to worry. Don't you see all that low-life trash infesting that place? I'm covered. And if I have to, I'll turn this bitch inside out until my thirst is satiated. So you, little sassy ass, need not worry, okay?" Anaya showed her fangs in light of this promise to show her friend that she meant business.

"Yeah well, I'm still mad at you though for scaring me like that." Her tone, posture and deliverance tried to amount up to an angered person, but she failed to do so, again.

"You are a terrible liar, my dear."

"Ah, that may be, but I learned from the worst."

"Me?" Now it was Anaya's turn to have a mock pout.

"No, my current husband you half-wit."

She chuckled at that remark before giving her friend another firm hug, going through the various people in the bar that would fit the bill to appease her appetite. She didn't have to think long before the creepy stalker appeared at the forefront of her mind, though.

"You just have your fun, and I'll call you when I think you made it back home safe, Mrs. O'Dare-OUCH!"

Valerie smirked devilishly as she pulled her hand away from Anaya's rear end, giving her some kind of discipline for using the name she came to loathe. "I'll probably be in by tomorrow evening so catch me then," she said as she waved one more time before swaying her way back to her current beau. Before she fully made it over there, Josh snatched her up and began smothering her face in his, walking towards the darkness to start wooing the perfect catch for the time being, since he had to before her "dog" came looking for her. He would never understand the female attachment to such small, ugly animals.

Finally breaking free of his assault, she managed to blow a half-assed kiss and a brief wave towards Anaya before her Prince Charming picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder as if he were some man from the wild that found something to take home as his trophy; then again, that wasn't very far from the truth. They turned around the corner and assimilated into the darkness of the night.

Anaya took in a deep breath, amusingly shaking her head once before she headed back inside just to see who would be her catch for the night. Yet that plan was made easier than before for an apparent bar fight broke out. Two drunken teenagers, as it seemed, lost track of whose turn it was to hit the cue ball, resulting in a pushing contest to an all-out brawl. The spectators tried to surround the two to encourage the fight, but the muscle-bound security guard that came out of nowhere quickly stopped it before any such commencement could begin. He grabbed the two patrons by the back of their collar and threw them out the back door, not even making sure to check if they were injured even more so.

The scent of the sanguine liquid filled the woman's nostrils with some tempting thoughts, savoring what was to become hers in a matter of moments. Why bother putting up such a fight with the asshole in the bar when there were two freebies waiting for her outside? Anaya's eyes glowed a bright purple at her revelation, and made a beeline for the back doors, first stopping by her table to drop off an extra tip and snubbing the pitiful excuses for men that inhabited such a place.

The thought also arose that her kill wouldn't be as savory as a fresh, un-drunken kill due to the amount of intoxication that simmered in their bloodstream. That thought alone almost made her stop her hot pursuit in expectance of what their blood would've tasted like. If they were so drunk as to be indecisive about whose turn it was to shoot the ball, then they had to be _loaded_ with alcohol! But then again, she wasn't really looking for something to bleed dry, just something to get a quick bite out of until she deemed someone else more worthy _to _bleed dry.

Mind made up, she pursued her quickie for tonight before she collapsed from the near smell of the metallic liquid being so close. This would be a quick kill; either boy not knowing what hit them even as they descended into their deaths. Though, she should still croak the dude that gave her that creepy smile from earlier, at least he would more than satisfy her craving well into the later days of the week. Before she got to the door, she looked over her shoulder to see the same stocky man staring at her. He'd been watching her all night long; too long for her comfort. No one just _gazed_ at her for such a long time without wanting to do something bad to her; either in the sex sense or the murdering. There were just weirdos like that out in the world and she was close to positive that this bar chocked up full of them. With that final mentation, she went out the door and quickened her pace to where the two men would meet their unsuspecting fates.

**S-s-S-s-S**

Creed smiled wide. Really wide.

He hadn't heard anything that interesting in _a while_.

It still wasn't shit worth mentioning, but it entertained him nevertheless.

Usually, women were just talking robots that unrelentingly squabbled and squabbled about shit that didn't even matter, as the case here, but their brief topic of his presence had him listening ever since. In fact, the whole time they talked they noticed him. Even though they went on having their usual chat about _absolutely nothing,_ they were aware of him and what he did. The brunette tried to have a staring contest to see who would bend first, to challenge him over the rights to her sensuous friend.

He found that sexy. So sexy that he almost overlooked the prude one for the skeez. But something about the pallid vixen had him with second doubts. He smelled sex on her; on her clothes, on her skin, in her aura he smelled it. That gave her bonus points because it meant that she had a few moves in her arsenal that she could pull out, but that also meant that her pussy was as used up as the train station in New York. And that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted someone a _wee _bit more reserved that the rest, or someone who didn't smell like stale sex.

But when this 'Anaya' said that the reason why he bore into her so hard was of his interest, it made him forget that the other woman even existed. This 'Anaya' knew he wanted her and she tried to play it off as him being some horny freak. She got it right though, in more ways than one. He felt rather miffed that that greasy asshole even touched her with his filthy ass, and he let his displeasure at the gesture be known. The stiffening of her posture must have rang loud and clear in her ears and she released her hand from his soon after. What put the icing on the cake provided the scene where Vicky, Verlaine, whatever her name, gave him a suggestive wink; as if to let him know that the woman was up for grabs and she indirectly gave him her blessing. He better hurry up and jump at the opportunity to grab her before it was too late. And he intended to, ever since he first laid eyes on her.

Victor turned around and paid for his drinks, as well as leaving a generous tip that the bartender wasn't worthy of. But since the bar kind of helped seek out his little play thing for the moment, he would let it slide for the time being. He readjusted his coat once, taking big strides towards the door in pursuance of his next meal. "Looks like it's time to start the show," said Creed, slowly making his way out the door to begin his assault.

* * *

**A/N:There you have it. The first remixed chapter to the story that needed some major work done for it to be presentable. Just looking at the other chapters made me cringe beyond belief! I honestly believe I did not add so much more to the story the first time around, or that I even wrote it the way I did! For those of you who are just now tuning in, you didn't miss much, believe me, lol. **

**The reviews I received the first go around let me know that I had something here and that I needed to work more at it so that I could make it better. I thank those who left those kind of reviews and I hope that I will continue to do so with the encouragement that I hope and continue to receive. **

**So until then, I will present you with another chapter in a short time. Thank you and I will see you later!**


	2. Night Creepers

**You guys don't know how painful it is for me to re-read all of the old chapters. I am wincing and screaming in horror as I'm going through this story. Well enjoy!**

**Chapter 2: Night Creepers**

As soon as Anaya went out the back door into the dark alley, she quickly ascended up the wall to land on a small building not too far away, stalking her prey like a lioness ready to attack. It was a better view from up here and she had the greater advantage of scoping out the landscape if anything should alert her.

There were days when she wondered what possessed her strange mutant gene to give her the powers of a vampire. A _vampire_ of all things. Why not something great like...the strongest female mutant on earth or the power of invisibility. She would even have substance if she had the _whole_ power of telepathy rather than the one she currently had; the ability to only read thoughts and not much else. Her creation might as well have been used to taunt _actual_ vampires of all of their defaults. Here lied the perfect breed of their race, practically mocking everything they were ever known to be about. She inhabited all the qualities of a vampire, but not one of their weaknesses, except for her need of blood.

Hence why she blended in with the shadows, waiting on the right moment to pounce on her claim. This apparent weakness also provided her greatest strength. The empowerment she would feel when rejuvenated with the fuel was utterly remarkable. She felt like she could take on the world and nothing could stop her from doing so. Yet that same empowerment would never be within her reach if deprived of her life source for a specific amount of time. On a good run, she could go a full week without needing the sustenance to tie her over.

She went two weeks without feeding her thirst.

And unlike the majority of vampires, she could very well stand and stomach _actual _food without any nasty after affects. However, if she went on for some time in absence of ripping someone's throat out, her cravings for raw, red meat usually skyrocketed, and that usually tied her over until she could get her hands on some _real _red meat. But none of that mattered though since she stalked right above two specimens that could temporarily steer her towards the right track.

In fact, she believed that she did the society a favor. Without a good-hearted soul like hers, the scumbags of the world would have had a much bigger stake in it. In the many decades that she lived, money, criminals, police, politicians, whores, mandates, pimps and drugs all remained a staple in the world, just in different formats. They evolved and change as more technological changes inhabited the world and made it exceedingly easier for the same crooks to continue to be crooked. People will do just about anything to get a piece of money and power to claim as their own, and Anaya saw those misfits as mere trash that hindered society's advancement.

She also came to realize that these same crooks had the most foul-tasting blood.

One of her unique traits, that took a while or two to hone, came the ability to "sniff out" the good blood from the bad blood. Diseases ran rampant in this part of town, and more than once did she find herself on the wrong end of some crimson liquid. Sweetened blood, salty blood, chemical-laced blood, acid blood, thick blood, thin blood, clumpy blood; those were tell-tale signs that the carrier had some sort of disease bouncing around in their bodies or they were druggies. Once she could pinpoint who was worthy and who wasn't, she made her strike. Though it wasn't like she left the tainted person to roam around and plague the rest of the planet either. They often found themselves in the middle of an alley with their throats slit open, blood mixing in with the dark asphalt to become one with the earth. She blamed it on the way she grew up, for she sometimes held onto these vicious tendencies.

The mutant-vampire was born in a time where ethics and morals did not even _exist_; what had _thought_ to be right and what had _thought_ to be wrong wove together like two pieces of string and stayed liked that for many decades after until someone had the guts to stand up and say "No."

Her time after that consisted of finding men and killing them in the most horrible way; an act to let go of her suffering that she had unrighteously been subjected to for the earlier part of her first 10 years of life. Her streak drove an insatiable lust; sneaking into their houses at night and leaving their wives to wake up in the morning soaked to the brim in their spouse's blood. Psychological disturbances within children can ultimately lead them to do atrocious acts once they reached their breaking point, and Anaya wasn't exempt from these practices. An orphaned, mutant slave child growing up in the 1850's would've caused her to do anything in order to survive, be it stealing food from the local market to draining some poor bastard dry. She had no direction in what was the right thing to do, didn't have anyone to guide her and console her in her time of need, or anyone to explain what went on with her and what she could do about it. It would've been certain that if she didn't have her mutant abilities to keep her alive, she would've been dead within the first twenty minutes of her escaping.

It didn't help that her need of the red liquid had to be met every four hours; often resorting to her thirst rage where she would bite into anything to get it under control. Often times she would wake up with no recollection of what she did or what she sucked the life out of. It scared her. She thought to be the only one of her kind and it drove her into this depression that she would be alone and like this forever. Kids didn't go around killing men or doing something as low as sucking the life of an animal dry, let alone a _girl_. As far as she knew, something _was _wrong with her and she knew that she wasn't normal because the average person didn't go around _doing _that shit. In her eyes, fate existed as a cruel and heinous phenomenon that can leave one to wallow in misery without ever hoping to find a purpose in life.

Only, by some miraculous discovery, did Anaya find a way to understand what she was and how she could come to embrace herself as a whole, and she did so upon the chance of running into Valerie. The rest...is history.

The abundance of crickets throughout the night abruptly halted their chirping. The birds of the night stopped their specialty calls. The wind restrained from blowing a cool breeze in the chilly, dusky air. Nature itself stopped with its nightly ministrations; all in a sense to see what this strange, elusive woman intended to do. The huntress wall-climbed onto the next building, slowing her pace a little for the two drunken idiots sloppily shoved each other in the alley, slurredly conversing about whose turn it was to pee and how much money was owed to the other.

She knew that it wasn't going to be a pleasant snack, but she really didn't feel like using any aggressive attacks since she wasn't in the mood to do so. Their blood wasn't going to be tasteful by any means necessary since the two fools were loaded with liqueur, but it would be enough to tie her over until tomorrow. Then again, the smart thing to do would be to travel to a hotel and sleep the day away. That way when the time came, she would feel invigorated enough to catch a more deserving kill. Still, the _smartest_ thing to do would be to go back inside and pick some fool up, take him in the restroom and do the deed there. Then she could relax knowing that her need to feed would be out of her system. Yet the smarter thing to do pointed towards waiting on the rooftops, then zap up some poor sucker and finish him there; the deal would be done and _done_.

However, those two ideas might require her to exert a little bit of energy that she didn't feel like wasting, so she opted to continue with her current plan at hand. Anaya breathed in heavily once, letting her nails extend and the rim of her eyes become red. She readied to pounce on the unsuspecting drunks and call this night to an end.

"Dude…you owe me…twenthy-twen…twenty dollars." A young, blond man quipped into the night air, losing his footing several times as he tried to stand up and walk his way over to the other inebriated man.

"Piss of you mudderfucker, I-_hiccup_-got my own divorce to take-_hiccup_-to the zoo-" Before another word could leave the brunette's lips, the contents of his apparent dinner of potatoes and meatloaf left the safety of his stomach and poured out into the alley.

"Looks like I'll take the blond one," Anaya grimaced as she saw the young boy wretch his stomach out onto the floor. Upon closer inspection of the two, she noticed that their faces were quite young, each one having almost feminine-like features to go with their handsome faces.

Babies. These were nothing but high-school babies being somewhere they had no business being. It was probably safe to assume that they agreed to sneak out of their comfortable homes and meet up for a boys' night out. The law requires that one must be the age of 21 to be allowed to drink but in this seedy part of town, no one cared for anyone. In her heart, she felt a pang of remorse for the situation they trapped themselves in; one of the many 'let-them-be-teenagers' occurrences that they won't be able to tell their children once they had them.

She squatted stealthily and low, ready to make her leap on the young boy and end his forsaken life. Before she could make her leap though, she saw a tall, looming figure leaping rapidly towards her prey. Apparently she wasn't the only one out on the hunt tonight.

Creed pounced on the blond boy, pressing an elongated claw right in the middle of his clavicle. Blood trickled out of the wound before shooting straight up like a geyser, causing the teen to reach up and languidly cover the wound with his hand. Gurgled, choking sounds were made as the boy asphyxiated on his own blood; opening up his mouth to release a strangled breath of air but all that left out pushed his own blood. He turned to the brunette that finished emptying out his stomach, clearing his throat once to alert the boy to his presence. The young man wiped off his mouth, looking the opposite way to see what made that sound. Creed gave out an irritated huff, grasping the boy in a headlock before sharply twisting his neck brutally to the right.

Anaya looked on from her spot on the roof, a number of jumbling thoughts swirling around in her head. The foremost thought of her conscious told her to high-tail it out of there and to try this feeding thing again tomorrow. Another thought, probably coming from her womanly-wiles sized up the male, taking in his broad build and ruggedly handsome face, appreciatively amazed how someone so big and so strong can move with _that _much agility and grace. Her vampire being told her how infuriated she should be for he just killed her snack; how she should be directing her attention to kill him next. Just the same; this man was a mutant.

After wiping some dirt off his trench coat, he looked up to the woman above him, raising the bloodied claw to beckon her to come near.

Hmm. What a charming individual. _No. No. No. Those 'kinds' are nothing but trouble. He's the enemy, remember. Flee the scene and try again tomorrow. Do not start a confrontation with him! _Her conscious sounded off clear. She was no match for him, especially in her current state. Something about him had the word 'danger' written all over him, and that he wasn't one to mess with.

Although...

It wasn't like she was afraid of no burly bastard. Anaya had seen and killed her fair share of men that were far bigger than him. But that's all they were. _Men_. She hadn't faced off against a male _mutant_ this large in stature before. Besides, it wasn't like she _couldn't_ scare him just because he seemed intimidating. She had grown men peeing their pants at the sight of her, so this one may be no different. As far as she knew, he could very well be bluffing up his oh-so-fearsome presence. And she still didn't get her _fill_ yet. Mind made up, she decided that she will meet this fiendish creature and try to supp him dry. And if he proved to be too much to her, she could escape. In her eyes; a win-win situation.

She leapt off the side of the wall, landing silently on her feet and flipping a batch of her hair back over her shoulder, standing up to her full height to appear unafraid of his presence. Even standing about ten feet away from him, he still had a lot of height over her, physically and psychologically. Her eyes left his as she looked at the two bodies on the ground; the blond man's neck smothered in blood and the brunette lying in his own dinner. Anaya scrunched her face in disgust when she looked back at him, noticing the way he eyed the curves of her body. That little voice in the back of her mind scratched her brain, warning her to get out of there before it was too late. Instead she persisted on, ignoring all the warning signs her little head voice persisted with.

"Looking for something?" His voice rang deep as it reverberated in his chest, bouncing off the walls as if he stood right beside her. He held one of those deep voices, like the ones belonging to Barry White or Isaac Hayes...one of those sex voices.

She shook her head once before answering, clearing any bad habits she may have picked up from Valerie. "What'd you go and do that for?"

"Do what?"

"_That,_" she stuck her chin out to point to the teens on the ground.

He followed the direction of her chin, noticing how her neck lengthened in motion. A neck that he wanted to suckle on. "I just wanted a chance to get to meet you."

"Really now?" That's his excuse? If he wanted to meet her, why didn't he just approach her while they were back in the bar? Or did he plan on meeting her for more nefarious means?

"Why didn't you just say hello back in the bar?"

"Needed a more intimate setting to do it in."

Anaya looked to her left, then to her right to take in their surroundings. A surrounding full of the smell of piss and blood, of decay and grime and sweat, of alcohol and...someone's lurched dinner. Oh this provided a very _intimate _setting all right; something very befitting for animals to dwell in. The dark clouds slowly started to conceal the moon, as if knowing that the duo's true form geared to come to light and it needed to hide them from the eyes of the world.

"Well is _this_ intimate enough?" She made sure her distaste in the environment heard loud and clear

"Yeah, it'll do."

"All right, I don't have time for this, is there something you want?"

His tone took on a more lower one when he gave his approval of the place, like he actually devised on doing something nefarious, whether _with_ her or _to_ her wasn't known, but he began to creep her out. She thought that he was just some pervert that wanted to screw her, but now he just seemed _off._ At first he didn't seem like a mutant, but when he murdered those two boys her suspicions were confirmed with how he leapt like a giant cat. But what about her? Did he think that she was one and if so when? Back in the bar? When she leapt off the building and landed perfectly? Was he trying to tell her that he was a mutant as well and he wanted to know if there were more out there like him?

"Oh, I like that. Get right down to business, don't you? All right then, let's fuck."

Well! Talk about being _blunt_.

The shock on her face said it all yet he made no further comment. He made that pretty clear in the bar the first time around, yet she didn't know why that statement surprised her. "Wow, don't we have two different agendas, huh? Mine's to kill you."

"Ha!" Creed gave out a sharp bark of laughter. "As if you could."

Is that how things were going to go down? This arrogant asshole challenged her, dumbing down what she is and throwing it right back at her. Well he was going to be in for a big surprise!

"Don't talk down to me you unconvincing prick! Cowards speak in a tone such as yours and I eat them bitches when the chef comes." She couldn't visibly see it, but she could _feel_ his whole aura darken, like she strode into hostile territory and there would be no way to back out of it without coming out unscathed. It served him right because he didn't know her and he shouldn't be making some silly assumptions about what she can and can't do. But she didn't know his abilities either, so he should leave the insult alone since they were both even.

Wrong.

He took one step forward, testing the boundaries to see what she would do when she felt threatened. He took another step forward and he saw her eyes narrow, either in warning or suspicion has yet to be found out; he voted for the former because she had quite the mouth on her and she needed to have that thing checked.

"Since you ruined my evening by killing the blond brat, don't really care for the other boy, I think a replacement is called to order." She let her fangs show in a smile that should have sent him packing. Instead, he seemed rather unbothered by the fact or he didn't seem to care. Which in turn made Anaya start to second guess herself and want to turn tail. But he seemed so close that she could bleed him dry and this whole thing could be over. Her mind screamed for her to throw in the white towel yet her body yearned for a fight, not matter how weak she was at the moment. Her energy drained out by the minute. All the time she talked to the mysterious figure, she mustered the energy she had left to try and suck him dry. Even though she sensed that she was going to lose, well her mind said that but her thirst began to say otherwise.

"And contrary to what you may think or see sir, I don't fuck on the first date."

At that last word, Victor had etched a mischievous grin across his face. _She_ may have those meaningless morals and codes, but _he _didn't. If he had to wait for sex, he might as well claim the girl as a steady in his life or marry the bitch. Neither was in his calendar, and she had better learn that fast.

Before he could offer a rebuttal however, she struck him hard and powerful across the jaw, causing his face to quickly turn to the left and nothing more. When he turned to face her again, he gave her a big, wide smile, offering her his own set of canines so she can see the true face of fear. She did that cute little scrunchy thing with her nose before she threw a right at him, in which he caught in his left hand. Little grunting noises were heard from her plush mouth in response to his claws digging into the flesh of her hand, trying to wrench it away but it held fast in his solid grip. Her right foot came up right between his legs, but he caught it by closing his two leggy limbs around her ankle and holding on tight. But her last attack of using her free, left leg caught him right on the side of his head; letting her go for she briefly stunned him.

Using this time to get in some action, she assembled her molecules behind Victor and jumped onto his back, biting him ferociously on the neck as her legs locked onto his sides for anchorage and support. She managed to get a serving of blood down her throat before Victor reached behind and grasped her leg, flinging her into the cement wall so hard that she made it cave inwards from the force. Creed walked over to where she lied and grabbed her. Yet before he could land another attack, she kneed him in the groin and kicked him in the head to land a needed few meters from her.

Impressed at her powers, and enraged as much, he recovered on his feet, noticing how his blood seemed to flow south of the border into his pants. He _liked_ it. He liked the fact that she was feisty and could throw a few punches. Frails just couldn't put up a worthy fight against him. Hell, a time or two he would even give them time to run away and get a head start at doing so; a _big_ head start. But it's something with their spatial reasoning that just caused them to turn around and escape back _into_ him. But this one, this one deserved to have the 'special' treatment just for giving him a little bit of an exercise; just for giving him a little bit of a chase.

"You don't give up do you?" Anaya wheezed out, closing her eyes and shaking her head in an attempt to regain some composure of herself. It has been a _long_ time since she felt an injury like that, and even longer for a single bone to break in her body. Or at least it may have been in severe pain because of all the throbbing it did in her left arm. She made her way to her hands and knees, her pristine white jeans now dirty from all the sludge in the alley. "You are giving me a workout I— AGH!"

She rolled over and over again in agony after he charged at her and power-kicked her in her stomach, she scooted as far away from him as possible to see if there was a way to escape. So _maybe_ this harbored as a bad idea after all and maybe she should have listened to her inner voice and not her instincts. Coming up with an offensive move remained her top priority and her only means of escape. Relenting to the idea of him having his way with her didn't seem very appealing at all, and he might _actually_ kill her if she said she gave up. Really, he couldn't have just approached her and talked to her about having a one-night stand? The results of him getting a "yes" from her was 60-40, but at least she would have had some leeway about his personality!

He reached out and grabbed her by her hair, pulling her up so she would be facing him. She attepted to pull free from his grip but he held fast as he wrapped his other hand around her waist, yanking her hair harshly a time or two for her to be still. She blinked several times to clear her eyesight, but his profile came up blurry every time she tried to look at him. While coming off as weak and docile, she placed her hands on the upper part of his chest, readying to prepare her attack and get away from him before things really turned ugly. Though, as _dreadful_ as the situation, she thought it felt kind of nice to be possessively held by such a strong man, but the fact that he wanted to _screw_ her turned her off; flattering but creepy.

"Now, Miss Thing, we can either do this the easy way or the hard way. The choice is yours-"

"I don't think you are in any position to be giving me options," she said peevishly, head lolling to the right so she could try to rest her head against his chest.

Creed gave a short chuckle, realizing that she may have bumped her head a little bit too hard against the wall. If she would just open her eyes and look around, she would clearly see that he had the upper hand in this situation. Besides, it seemed like she realized her defeat, with how she leaned into him and seemed to calm down a bit. He didn't understand some women. For some of them, they acted like they didn't want to fuck him, but he would show a tad of dominance, a tad bit of flirting (in _his_ sense of the word) and they would cave into him. Those were the ones that gave him a good lay, so if she kept up this act, she would enjoy it as much as he would, maybe even more.

He slid his hand down to palm the curve of her large derriere, giving it a few appreciative slaps as it gave off a few bouncy wiggles. He tilted her neck to the side, running the curve of his nose against it as he took a deep inhale of her scent; the sweet smell of blackberries, vanilla and blood flooding his nostrils. "See how much better things are when you just...go with the flow?" He gloated, sensing her shiver against him.

"Sorry to spoil your fun, but I only go with the flow when it's in _my_ favor." She laid her head along his chest, lifting her eyes to make contact with him. His heart beat strummed steady, letting her know his calm disposition and wasn't expecting her to give him a surprise attack. Didn't he know that women can be the ultimate deceivers of man when it comes to their desires? However, he could be appearing calm while remaining on guard in case she tried to maneuver any sneaky blows to him. It was exactly what she planned on doing, but buttering his ego a little wouldn't hurt before she crushed it.

"You could have just asked and I would have been open to it. Now you just took all the fun out of it, you bastard."

"I doubt it. Giving a little bit of a chase is what _makes_ it fun."

"I _doubt_ that. Forcing a girl to fuck you makes you seem kinda desperate." The more she thought about it however, the more turned off she felt by the whole falsely-flirting-with-him idea. If there maintained one thing she ground her teeth about, it was a cowardly man that took advantage of a fragile woman. How the chromosome Y species was able to commit such a deplorable act on a helpless woman made her insides boil with rage, especially when it came to relationships. How a man could go out and find a cheap, tainted fuck when he had a priceless, pure one at home utterly bewildered her. Women committed these acts as well, but they often had a motive. Men just do it because they feel they can or they simply let their dicks do the thinking.

When it came to the female species however, she just wanted to bash their heads in for _allowing_ their significant other, or any other man, to treat them as a doormat; to be used and forgotten once their services were no longer required. Some women need the romance and love in their lives, and some men just don't understand it, or respect it for that matter. Sure there were people out there who only wanted the 'quick fixes' to make their lives simple, and the whores provided that plenty, but when the whole boy loves girl thing comes to bloom, sacrifices had to be made to make each other happy.

What was this guy's motives by the way?

The most obvious answer sustained a quick fix, and she was not the girl to do that shit. Anaya had done a few fixes maybe once or twice in her life, but her experiences with them were just...disappointing to say the least. She wasn't some woman that allowed a man do her any way he wanted to without repercussions. There really was no need to dwell on what people did because she would outlive them and their trifling deeds; Anaya feeling and she was quite indifferent towards the whole thing. And if he _indeed_ thought with his dick and wanted to fuck her, she may have agreed to it...on _her_ terms. "Enough with the jibber-jabber, stroke his inflated ego and book it," she thought to herself. Such a shame really, he probably would have shown her a good time if he wasn't such an ass.

"No, it just makes me horny." Creed countered, smacking her ass again for good measure.

"If I was anything normal, I would be screaming bloody murder to the world."

"Cuz the big, bad wolf captured the sheep?" He began to slowly nip and lick his way up her neck, enjoying the way she jerked and pressed into him more. Just maybe she gave into him fully; there really didn't habit any reason to back out of this now and it just started to get good.

"No, because the sheep stabbed the wolf in dismissal of his advances!" All ten of her claws punctured into each side of his chest while simultaneously biting down on his neck, teeth gripping onto his muscle as she gulped his life away. She was supposed to give him a quick nip and scale the walls to make her escape but she couldn't pry her mouth away from his neck. His blood fueled her; feeding her the more she took in. Her need moved towards a satiated calm and she couldn't deny how good it felt. If only she had let herself off a tad bit sooner...

Creed chuckled lightly, knowing that she would try to pull off something that slick and conniving. As his annoyance grew for her trying to falsely seduce him, he still had to give her some credit for her boldness. Normally, any other woman that tried to do that to him would have ended up unconscious already, but somehow he liked that sexy but pitiful challenge she gave him; just thinking about what else hid made him anxious to get her there.

"The easy way it is." Creed muttered before grasping the whole of her neck, slowly crushing her windpipe and lifting her up and away from his body. He had to be mindful to refrain from being kicked by her long legs for she flailed and flogged those things about in an attempt to hit him. Her nails dug into his hands, but he didn't flinch at the pain because it didn't matter to him. He set her on the ground, enjoying the way she squirmed and jerked in his grip. If she didn't feel that control is his in this situation, he would to _make _her feel it. Creed started by lifting her up off the ground until only her tippy-toes touched it while tightening his hold around her windpipe. In an attempt to make her even more vulnerable, he placed her feet fully on the ground and loosened his grip around her throat without letting go of her fully, then re-tightening his hold and holding her up by her toes. She soon caught on to this act and tried to use those stilts to kick him in his crotch. Her hand came up to tap his in what he hoped would be submission.

"I am not... a rag doll, so can you please stop doing...that. You're killing off my nerves." Her words were wheezed out almost painfully. And that meant she would be too tired to say any more snarky remarks or even protest. Even in the face of adversity, she still had enough spunk in her to crack jokes about her dilemma. That only added points to her appeal to him...and he wanted to shut her up now before that appeal dwindled due to her chatty mouth.

"Why sure, darling. Wouldn't want you to be completely brain-dead for tonight's events."

"Huh?"

He backed up to a dumpster in the alley, seeing how that would be adequate enough to force her to take a little nap. Though he wanted to take her right then and there, something inside him told him that she might be more fun than he expected. She _did_ ask him in return if this provided enough of an intimate setting and he agreed. He really could just _do_ the deed right in the alley and be done with her, but she could practically keep up with him in a battle and he would do things a little bit differently, for once. She earned it.

Placing one hand on her jeans and the other on the back of her neck, he pushed her back before throwing her right into the corner of the dumpster. Her body collided with the steel in perfect fashion; her head and back hitting the front of the dumpster and her hip and legs hitting the side. It almost looked like her body folded up into a lawn chair, only from the _opposite_ side. The crunching of her bones told him that he had broken a few things, so that should keep her paralyzed until he returned to his forest abode and gave her his special treatment there. Creed walked over to her, leaning down to examine the extent of her damages and assess how long it would take her to heal...well judging if she did, but he seemed pretty sure since she glued herself to his neck like a vampire.

The upper right side of her forehead had a sizeable gash on it, blood slowly pooling out of the wound to drip on the floor. Giving her a once-over everything looked good, like she just passed out from drinking too much but he heard her bones cracking. He felt her right shoulder out of its socket, thinking to pop the bone back in its place but thought better of it; didn't feel like having her whining in her sleep from the pain it would cause. The moon appeared to remove itself from behind the protection of the clouds, now uncovering all the acts any creatures of the night committed, and this newly light shed itself all over the comatose huntress. The darkness of the night illuminated the deep chocolate of her skin, giving off this ethereal glow that the light of the moon highlighted. Stopping his scrutiny enough to take in her form, he dipped his head low and took a long lick of that smooth, luscious skin, wondering how much more he would come to lust after her the longer the lights wore on. He placed one hand on either side of her breast, feeling how meaty and shapely they were before running his hands down the sides of her curves, stopping when her right hip felt out of place and...not altogether _there_.

Well, his job was semi-done. She wouldn't be waking up any time soon and that would give him plenty of time to take her home and _entertain_ her. Maybe even let her use his premises to make herself comfortable. Paying an escort or stealing one just didn't tickle his fancy. Though they had quite the experience, he didn't feel like diving into an already used-up girl. The scent of sex would permeate all into their skin and no matter how much they washed it off, it would still remain _in _their scent. This little Anaya however, didn't have any sex scent on her, like she had written it off and it wasn't something useful to her. Frankly that's what turned him on some of the time; a woman that didn't go around having her snatch all used up.

He grabbed her by her waist and hoisted her up over his shoulder, taking note of the little groans she emitted due to her injured hip being bent and the pressure against it. "Shoulda just went with the flow girlie."As he made his way out the alley, he looked up to the sky and smiled brightly, lightly giving little smacks to her behind as he faded into the night.

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**A/N: I don't want anyone to think that I condone any of this stuff, I'm just trying to write Mr. Creed in his element, lol. **

**Toodles!**


	3. Decisions of Lust

**I really do appreciate all of the feedback that I have been getting from you guys. I find myself getting better and better at re-writing this story and I am more than happy with how it's turning out, and even happier that you guys are giving me feedback! Let's continue shall we...**

**Chapter 3: Decisions of Lust**

Nights were always welcomed in Victor's world. For some reason, a creature's true form always came out to play. They weren't hiding behind various masks so society could see how they truly operated. They didn't pretend to be something they were not so they couldn't be judged as an outcast. Everything was put on display when the sky darkened and tonight was no exception. Little Miss Feisty blended in with the "normal" world until the time came to show her true colors, and she did not disappoint. She bent the rules of normalcy by gnawing on the blood on her finger, and her true nature came to light. Victor discovered only the tip of her iceberg; anxious to expose the rest of it to see how much of her form she had to show. Just the thought of it alone excited him.

He continued walking along the path, suddenly slowing down in his tracks as the back door of the bar opened. The whore with the caked up face and her nightly suitor came stumbling out into the open. The duo stopped laughing long enough to take notice of him and the knocked- out hell-cat. He didn't want to draw any more attention to himself than needed. Only a matter of time before the bodies further down the alley would be discovered. Bloodshed seemed like a fitting vice for him to do at the moment, but the woman on his shoulder stole all of his attention away. Victor wanted to ignore them and keep on his way, but they looked like they wanted to stop and chat.

"Had too much fun on her girls' night out." Victor smacked her bottom once to show the man that Anaya blacked out...and for the man to keep it moving.

"Oh I know what you mean, man. Women are like garbage disposals, always taking in too much-" His paid entertainment pulled him deeper into the alley, covering his mouth with hers while Victor could care less about what he said. His pace quickened for they were bound to find the bodies and try to alert him to the situation, then he would really have to kill them both. Nearing the end of the alley came in the voice of a chipper lad over the little earpiece he wore.

"Wade to chia pet, Wade to chia pet, come in you bushy animal. Is this thing on? I'm using it right, right? Do I gotta say 'over' every time I gotta talk or finish-"

"Leave me alone Wade." Victor growled.

"Ah, so it does work! Oh, I would but you wouldn't respond to grandpa's, err...Stryker's calls. He's quite upset if I may say. Been trying to reach you for over an hour."

"I told Stryker I'm off for tonight."

"We all were! I was in the middle of watching the episode of "I Love Lucy" with the Superman dude. You know, how cool would that be if you had X-ray vision to look at all the tits in the world-"

"Wade!"

"-But we got to go to Uruguay for some overlord and some type of mutant he has in his possession."

"Fuck off, Wade."

"Ooooh, somebody's grumpy. Aww, the wittle squirrel mad because he broke his wittle nail?"

"I'll break something on you if you don't shut it!"

"O.K, but try not to touch the face, it's my moneymaker."

Well what fantastic news. For the last three weeks straight, Victor had been sent on all these different assignments to catch this or to kill that. And they turned out to be nothing but shit missions that were a complete waste of time and energy. The team Stryker put together with the utmost confidence slowly but surely veered towards extinction. The other pukes had a soft stomach for what Stryker requested for them to do, and it left Victor to clean up their mess. Victor hated when he had to go on some type of assignment when all he wanted to do was relax for a bit, just take a one-week break to gather himself up again. And for the last six weeks straight, the team treveled all over the world to collect paperwork and valuables that were of interest to Stryker. The missions weren't all in vain, though. Victor had the pleasure of fucking and killing all who got in his way. But even that got a little annoying because he frolicked on another one's time.

"Hey! You still there? Here kitty, kitty, kitty. You don't want to keep old man ass from getting to his applesauce…whoops!"

"Victor, where are you?" The gruff voice came in over the little earpiece, and from the tone of it, he didn't sound too pleased.

"Not anywhere near you, Stryker. I'm on the other side of town taking a break-"

"Break's over. You are needed back over here at the base camp-"

"Well, I'm not. So you're gonna have to do whatever it is without me."

"No we're not. We will pick you up at the house that you have in the wilderness. I need you to be on board on this assignment. You will be picked up at 1800 hours. Be ready then."

With that, the earpiece went silent. Victor growled in annoyance with his current predicament. Either he could satisfy himself with the frail in the alley, or quickly take her to his house and lock her in the basement to come back for her later. Son of a fucking cock piss! He didn't feel like doing this shit right now! Of all the times he needed to relax, why did _this_ shit have to happen at this moment?

This frail put up a hard-earned fight with him, going so far as to even alluding to the idea that she _might_ fuck him. That was all the invitation he needed from her. She hid something else, and he wanted to find out what she had in store. For all he knew, she could very well show him a thing or two under all that sass she displayed, but how could he figure that out if he had to leave? He didn't want anyone else to have her so the thought of killing her came up, but he didn't _want_ to do that. The thought of bending her over and taking her hard and fast in the alley crossed his mind, but he didn't _want_ to do that either. Decisions had to be made quick and he ran short on time. On one end, he could just disappear until he finished what he wanted to with her, but Stryker would give him shit mission after shit mission with no end in sight as a reprimand. On the other end, he could take Anaya to the house and lock her up as best he could, but there stayed a chance of her recovering and escaping. She was pretty banged and broken up from the scuffle, and that would at least take a day or two to properly heal. Styker didn't like to waste time so it appeared plausible that the mission would only take a day. Where he would take the girl would be in a remote location, so she wouldn't know where to go even if she did wake up and escaped.

The design of the interior of the house might make her want to stay longer, though.

And if she did happen to escape, he would just track her down and finish up what they, or rather he, initiated. He made it out to the street and realized his small dilemma of not having any transportation. He scaled the mountainous region from his loft to get here tonight by foot, and he didn't have time to go rock scrambling to get here there in time. Hot-wiring a car will have to do since he was stranded. At times like these, he wished he had her teleporting powers, then he could scale miles of areas within seconds. Looking at the selection before him, all the cars that were there were battered; some had homemade paint jobs that could have been done by a ten year old. He didn't need a classy car, but he didn't want to be seen in a hoopty either. Mind just about made up to get in a rusty jeep, he looked further down to his left and smiled. Wide.

Victor came across a black 1966 Dodge Hemi Charger with an electric razor grille and hideaway lights. Sleek, grey leather seats complemented the cleanliness of the car while the tinted windows gave it a look of sexual mystery. He'd seen one of these bad boys while on a shit assignment up north, while he "did away" with a frail up there. She assumed that he took an interest in the car more than he did with her. Right assumption, wrong outcome. The car was an American classic, only a few existed around the world and even fewer were kept this clean. He wondered who the car belonged to, for it would be such a pity to hotwire a car as smooth as this one.

He looked out the corner of his eye to the unconscious woman, but her ass blocked his vision. She appeared to be classy; a little bit spunky and a little bit dangerous. Could it be that she would drive something so much like herself? He felt around all of her pockets, making sure to squeeze each cheek a little harder than usual to quell his rising desire. Something was felt in her front pocket, something small yet hard at the same time. Digging into said part of her pants produced … a key to a Hemi Charger.

"You are full of surprises aren't ya, frail?" He said, chuckling to himself

He unlocked the passenger door and set her inside, hearing the loud screaming at what he presumed to be the woman with the caked up make-up finding the dead boys. Victor turned his attention back to Anaya when a small groaned escaped her lips. Smirking at the sensual sound made him press his lips to hers, biting her lips once before pulling away completely. "I know baby, we'll be home soon enough." More commotion resounded throughout the night air, prompting Victor to pick up the pace before someone came out and accused him for leaving. He was certainly surprised when the car conformed to fit his 6'3 frame comfortably, relaxing a bit to take in its comfortable state. The engine revved up nice and loud before he pulled off, speeding down the highway...or trying to do so. The burly man grew slightly disappointed that the car took a while to muster up some speed, but went into a neutral calm once the thing sped up, roaming loudly as he moved in the darkness.

**S-s-S-s-S**

Victor rolled up to his log cabin with fifteen minutes to spare prior to leaving, wishing he took the long way to his house for he enjoyed the car ride. He moved over to the passenger side and picked up the lame woman and pulled her over his shoulders, making the short distance to the front doors. Out of the multiple houses he garnered since his time with Stryker, this one had to be his favorite due to the open wilderness. He missed vacationing up here. The smell of pine trees and wood made him feel one with nature. And his house reflected that.

The house looked more like a log manor than a log cabin. The abode in general had an earth-tone, wood-work setting to it; the majority of the house made out of oak trees in various shades of browns and reds. His living room had an ivory corner group that complemented the shaggy sandy brown carpet and the mauve-shaded walls. Murals and pictures of hunting scenes adorned the surface. A fireplace made out of brick and marble made Victor's nest seem that much more "hospitable." For the kind of lifestyle he leads, he sure did have impeccable taste in interior decorating.

Having a large house of this size would be too big for just one person, but Victor liked it that way. No people to see what he did, no authority to discover the rotting carcasses of past frails, no family to care about, just absolute solitude. The only time he had company, and wanted it, was when he had a pretty little thing to keep him company for a while, but their "visits" lasted no more than two days; it's really all he could stand for them to be in his company.

He moved Anaya off of his shoulder and carried her bridal-style to the basement. Making his way down the stairs made him feel a wee bit homesick. Whenever the stress ate at him to no end because of his hectic schedule, he would simply come up here, go into his backyard and let his animalistic side roam free. Tramping through the refreshing pastures and the rocky hillside made him feel at ease with all his present troubles. He let himself become one with the animals, switching to predator mode until he tracked down and captured his prey. Most people calm themselves down with ludicrous amounts of money, women, and power. But this, this is the relaxation he would choose, even over a good lay. Yet he couldn't deny that being up here all alone _with_ a good lay proved just as relaxing as all the materialistic things in the world. Now all this would have to hold off for a minute for something that Stryker couldn't get the other dicks to do.

Victor balanced Anaya on his lone arm while he fished out a key to unlock the basement door. Usually, he kept his playthings in the basement until he readied to use them. There wasn't any reason why he never once been in there to clean it up. It was made to instill more fear inside his mates; more of a drop off-pick up room to wait in. When he opened the door, his nostrils were submerged in the mixed aromas of blood, sweat, salt from dried tears, must, and acerbic feminine odors. He couldn't dare leave her in here, but he didn't care where he left her, as long as she didn't escape before he got back. Leaving her here existed as a _big_ gamble, but one he was willing to take. This room had only one way out, and he had the only key to do so. Unless she could teleport to the other side of the door when she didn't know what lieds there or knock it down, then she was pretty much fucked in this unknown place. The only thing that came as a piece of comfort in the basement provided a blood-stained mattress that had seen better days. A dusty, ceiling fan hung high up on the ceiling, and that was only used in the summer to keep the putrid scents from reaching an all-time high.

This stayed the only room that Victor could keep his frails in because it had no escape route. He wouldn't _even _contemplate on keeping them anywhere else in the house. A few times he chained some up outside, and the wolves picked up on her fear and...things didn't end so nicely.

Various stains of reds and browns adorned the bed and the wood floor. Walls were painted a murky green yet the paint chipped off from several places, some due to the fingernail scratches embedded into the walls. Cobwebs hung in several places, dust formed in several spaces on the floor, sordid pieces of stained clothing hung off the corner of the mattress. It truly did look like a dungeon room of some sort.

The soft whirring of a helicopter sounded off in the distance, reminding him of why he did this in the first place. Taking one more look at the exotic beauty, he leaned over enough and dropped her on the mattress, turning away quickly and locking the basement door. Victor took in a deep breath for his nerves were bound to be wrought by thinking about her the whole trip, and simply by _being_ in Wade's presence. Trudging up the stairs, he went to grab his duffel bag out of his living room closet for emergencies such as these.

A few yards west landed a helicopter in the clearing, door opening to reveal a smiling Wade hanging out the door. The mutant's scowl only hardened deeper for the ride about to ensue. As he passed the sleek beast in his driveway, he rubbed his hand against his pocket; there nestled her car key and the spare key he found resting inside her visor. A small, smirk nestled on his face before being quickly wiped away; the sight of Wade doing a stupid dance to hurry up his pace caused his left eye to twitch. Just maybe, _maybe_ if he thought about the sleeping beauty in his basement, then the trip wouldn't be so bad.

"Chi-chi-chi-chia, chia!" he heard Wade scream at the top of his lungs.

Then again, maybe not.

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**A/N: And the plot thickens…dun dun DUN! This chapter was amazingly short compared to what I usually do. On average, I write at least 10 pages or more per chapter, yet it does take me a little longer to upload it, so I guess that's a good thing. **

**I know Victor is this highly sadistic...sex creature and he's always doing something that shocks you. Shouldn't really be a surprise when you see it in the comics, but he still gives off that shock value, doesn't he?**

**And even though Stryker and Co. is mentioned in the story, they won't have a much bigger part until much later in the story. It's always nice when you give other characters a little bit of oomph instead of using them as fillers some of the time.**

**Drop me a note and tell me what ya think!**


	4. Wild Surroundings

**I had spare time on my hands, so I decided to upload another chapter. It's quite time consuming to edit all this stuff, but it makes me feel that I have accomplished something, so here you guys go!**

**Chapter 4: Wild Surroundings**

"_What are you," demanded the woman who sat in horror, looking at the bone claws that sprawled out of her son's knuckles. The young boy stared at his hands in astonishment, looking at the claws that killed this stranger, this stranger that killed the man who he believed to be his real father. Turned out that the stranger he killed _was_his real father and the woman had lied to him this whole time. He destroyed his perfect family. If anything,_ she_ should have been the one lying dead on the ground for her deceit, but he couldn't bring himself to knowingly kill his own mother. Without looking back, the little boy ran out of the house into the woods, scared for his life that he was a murderer, but even _more_ disturbing; the fact that he wasn't normal. Running as fast as he could in his red robe, he was knocked down by the servant boy that stood by his side through thick and thin. The little boy scrambled to his feet to make a defensive stance against him, not knowing if the servant boy, now confirmed to be his half-brother, planned to to kill _him_ for killing _their _father._

"_I didn't mean it!" said the little boy._

"_Yes you did!" retorted the older brother. He continued, "He deserved it, and you gave it to him. We're brothers Jimmy, do you realize that? And brothers protect each other. You have to be hard now, hard so they can never touch us."_

_The boy in the robe didn't want to be hard. He wanted to be in his warm bed, eating some soup and talking to the young man across from him about his day. He wanted things to go back to the way they were. Becoming a vagabond just to survive wasn't something he desired to subject himself to. He didn't even think that they could survive without an adult to provide for them, not to mention that they would be hunted, hunted like rabid dogs instead of the people they were. Even worse, who would take in a couple of homeless, murdering misfits? "I want to go home."_

"_We can't. We stick together no matter what, and take care of anyone who gets in our way. Can you do that little brother?"_

Dreams. Someone else's dreams. One of the setbacks she didn't want to relive every time she drank from someone. They did nothing but make her feel remorseful, especially the ones where the person suffered much during their childhood. This dream, supposedly from her horny admirer, had been no different. She didn't catch onto exactly what happened, but Anaya vaguely saw two dead bodies on the floor and the brown-haired boy with the claws from his wrist, she assumed was the assassin. The big brother, presumably the brute, tried to comfort the little boy while giving him the harsh reality of their situation. It seemed also safe to presume that she could blame his rude, blunt behavior on his childhood events. Didn't excuse him from what he did, but she was given some insight as to what he went through. Now, on to find out what she got _herself_ into.

The huntress awoke with a groggily, slow start. Little by little she moved each muscle, seeing what was broken and what provided usage still. Her eyes shot open as a surge of pain shot up her right arm, indicating that that appendage needed to be moved as little as possible. Calming herself down enough to not panic, she resumed checking the status of her body. It wasn't before long that same searing pain returned, burning all the nerves and muscles that joined together at her right hip. She didn't dare move that thing at all for she was bound to scream out in agony. That idiot sure did do a good job at incapacitating her, she didn't doubt that. The more conscious she became, the more aware she became of a constant throbbing to the right side of her temple. The last thing she could remember was the brute choking the life out of her and then blackness. He...dammit why did he do that to her? Out of _all_ the easy women surrounding that shoddy place, why did he pick her? More than half of them wore pieces of clothing that barely covered their naughty bits, and it gave the impression to be more than easy to just pick one of those broads up. Compared to the other girls, Anaya looked considerably overly "conservative" in her attire. But maybe that served as the appeal. Maybe he wanted a change of pace in a woman; to have one that still had some self-preservation and dignity for herself. Guess she'll never know what would have happened tonight had that jackass just _approached_ her instead of acting like some sadistic freak.

As her head throbbed from all the questions left unanswered, she reached her left hand up to the ache in her head, feeling some sticky, clotted substance originating from the place of hurt. Her senses became more aware the more she recovered from her forced slumber, smelling the fresh scent of copper adorning the side of her head. An indescribable smell infiltrated her nostrils soon after, rousing her to full alertness; as much as she could without fully injuring herself further. Using her heightened sense of smell, she to distinguished the wretched smells of sweat, blood, and body musk; causing her face to grimace at the horrible mixture. Did the bastard rape her and dump her body in a trash can? Giving herself an internal check-over 'down there' produced the results that she felt thankful for; nothing seemed sore or pried open without permission. It seemed that he did have sense, of some sort, to not defile her as he so boldly claimed before.

Her eyes opened fully to complete darkness, her night vision kicking in the sooner her sight cleared. She looked around to the left, then to the right; nothing in her line of sight looked familiar. Her head returned to look to the right, eyes drifting to the corner to see a brown stain on something yellow. Focusing on the object more caused her eyes to drift away from the brown spot to a broader sight in the room. Widened eyes shot open, realization settling in that she rested on top of a pissy, blood-stained mattress. Anaya scrambled off of the thing with an indignant cry, hot discomfort stabbing her injuries in rebuttal to her moving so fast. So that's where the foul smell came from, and the exposed parts of her body _touched_ that thing. "What sick fucker would even think to put someone on that!" she said aloud, but then closed her mouth because _her_ sick fucker must have put her here. Unless if he left her in the alley and some drug fiend or pimp kidnapped her. Earthly pine cones and some other earthy smell she couldn't identify though told her of her kidnapping, but not by some drug fiend. Otherwise the place would have smelled like marijuana and other illegal substances.

No windows. That heeded the first thing she noticed. She resided in a basement of some sort, judging by how old and run-down the thing appeared. Her eyes drifted back to the bloody mattress that she laid upon, goose bumps beginning to crawl unmercifully throughout her body. Someone obviously did not care about their living conditions, keeping this place a mess for they were too lazy or it was _meant_ to be this way. Anaya managed to get on her hands and knees, but not before painfully twisting her right arm to lock it back into its place. Her hip reposed a different matter, though. That thing required to rest for a moment before she even _attempted_ to try and heal it properly. No time to think about that now, she needed to get out of this dank, dark basement before she passed out because of the smell.

Making it to her hands and resting most of her weight on her left leg, she crawled to the door and slowly pulled herself up, almost making it to stand up before pain shot up her leg. "_Fuck! C'mon you stupid leg, you ain't gotta do shit but drag yourself along_!" Encouraged, and disappointed as much, she gave it a second attempt, gritting her teeth together harshly until she stood up with her back to the door. Where exactly did he take her ? In a basement yes, but _where_?. Did her attacker take her to some abandoned lot and leave her there until he came back for her? Was she somewhere by the docks, locked away in one of the various shacks the fishermen used to sleep? Closing her eyes and stilling her breath, the injured mutantess listened for any sounds of any sort. Thirty seconds passed and no noise filtered through her hearing. If she stayed in this room any longer, she drove to lose consciousness again, giving her attacker an opportunity to strike. Hmm, just where did the man in question hide? She didn't know if her attacker rested somewhere on the other side of the door or waited on her to make her appearance. Anaya put her ear to the door and listened to anything moving around on the other side. Minutes of silence passed by, silence that could be perceived as a good or bad thing.

"Ugh, I'm feeling light-headed," the woman groaned, scrunching up her nose in disgust when she looked upon the nasty mattress. The worst thing that could happen to her carried on an unfair "death", but...she had a little secret up her sleeve should the worst-case scenario happen. Anaya found strength and courage deep within her being, taking two internal breaths to calm her nerves, gripping the door in her left hand and yanked it. Hard. The door pulled off of one of it hinges, splinters and the like falling to the floor.. No use in trying to see if the door was unlocked; she didn't think anyone would be t_hat_ stupid to leave it like that. Her little stunt left her more tired than before, but it was twice as good than being in the basement any longer. She waited there in the dark silently to see if anyone would come to see what made the sound. One minute passed, then three minutes, then five. There remained no detected movement in the house. Maybe the tenant waited for her to come up or no one resided there. Slowly, she pulled the rest of the door open, mindful to keep the sound to a minimum and of her injuries. More darkness greeted her as she stared up some dark stairs, keeping her back against the wall as she slowly ascended up them. Two minutes later, and still alive, Anaya peeked over the top of the stairs, mouth slightly parted at the vast, clean area set before her.

Green-grey, glass-front cabinets complemented the grey walls that it sat against. White marble counter tops adorned the matching green-grey counters that were similar to the cabinets. Lying on top of the counter were various sets of knives; some varying in style to butter to full-out butcher knives. The fridge, stove and the dishwasher was made out of chrome, giving the kitchen this haughty, grand appeal to it. Nobody seemed to be home, signaling that it sustained a safe journey for Anaya to stealthily search around the house for any intruders...or the person who caused her to intrude there in the first place. The wooden floors felt cold under her feet, providing temporary relief to the scorching feeling burning up her right leg. Her trotting brought her over to the dishwasher, eyes resting on a black duffel bag. Curiosity got the better of her as she looked into the bag, discovering a hefty amount of cash inside; estimates probably somewhere around fifty grand.

This loft...house...prison must've belonged to her Neanderthal, smelling his scent fading away the longer she stayed there. Wouldn't that be nice if she took the bag and went on a little shopping spree to pamper herself, or to get revenge on the bastard for making her go through all this shit? But the money wasn't needed, her current occupation has given her all the luxury perks she could handle. And by occupation meaning hand-me-downs from Valerie's various fortunes. As she hobbled out of the kitchen, her attention turned to the red oak dinette set that took over half of the dining room. The matching seats contained some kind of hunting scenes engraved onto the back of the chair; the piece appearing to be used as decoration rather than somewhere for eating.

"Why did this dick bring me here," she whispered to herself, seeing how his masochistic nature contradicted his sense of style. It seemed unlikely that he brought her here to give an apology for acting the way he did; the latter part of her mind thinking that he brought girls up here to kill them. It maintained a logical thought, seeing how he trapped her in the basement. He didn't look like the type to take no for an answer, and that suggested a possible reason why he did what he did to her. Men liked for females to play hard to get, but he took that _too_ far when she showed him that she had a backbone.

Though his scent faded away, it still lingered strong throughout the house, especially near the kitchen. What if he waited around the corner, waiting to pounce on her when she least expected it? If he decided on giving her a peek-a-boo surprise, then she would give him one as well. The muntantess limped back to the kitchen, picking up the largest knife to defend herself with in case he attacked her. As quiet as she could, she leaned up against the wall, taking a deep breath before slowly turning around the corner to peek into the living room.

No one came into sight.

"Okay, maybe he really left." Her body turned the corner fully, looking inside the spacious living room before stepping down the two steps that lead into the area. Anaya's eyes shifted to the left, seeing her precious baby parked outside on the brick driveway. Her car...occupied this asshole's driveway. The car that _she_ drove around. The car that _she_ kept clean and updated whenever she thought it needed a tune-up. Her car that lived as an American classic. That gorilla of a Neanderthal _drove_ her car up here? He _touched_ her car!

_The car is replaceable, your life isn't_. Her mind talked her down for thinking about something so vain, but Anaya ignored it. Instead her mind should have been thinking about a possible escape route and the fact that her car sat right there, or even the fact that she carried on something. Hope began to fill in her pores, thinking that she could sneak away from the brute and escape to freedom. Yet the realization of him taking her keys halted her celebration, leaving that thread of hope hanging for dear life. She continued on her way towards the front door, pushing aside her thumping headache in order to listen for any sounds throughout the house. The house endured a quiet aura; the refrigerator should have been humming silently or the clocks on the wall ticking. Her guard worked overtime and for good reason; she portrayed doubtful knowledge of where she resided. Her brain kept telling her to keep that thing up, but her senses kept telling her that no one stayed to accompany her.

Opening the front door led her onto an enclosed porch, something along the likes of a patio, before she actually step foot outside. Teal couches and chairs adorned the porches, with complementary oak tables that made it the perfect setting for a cool, summer day. Wooden floors completed the look, keeping the dirt and leaves from spoiling the floor. "Just who...this can't be the same person that has no manners." Someone who possessed this much taste in style couldn't match the personality that her kidnapper had. Then again, people who usually gained these lavish homes were usually assholes by nature.

Brown, blue and beige cobblestone bricks led the way to the end of the driveway, transitioning into a dirt road that seemed to stretch on forever. Judging from where she stood, she appeared caught up high in the mountains, or deep within some forest. The white dots in the sky sparkled brightly against the dark sheet it laid against, clearly showing that she stood nowhere near any town and the pollution that came with it. Trees of various shades and colors loomed over the house, as if it acted as its protective guardian. The manor upheld the only thing that drew attention amongst the darkness due to its dull-cream color, giving away the secluded feeling this area produced.

Trekking to the car proved an arduous task, but she made it. Easing herself down into the seat wasn't so easy either, her hip not yet healing as quick as it should. What little energy she zapped from her admirer wasted on fighting him, leaving her worse off than before. But there lingered no time to dwell on her misfortune, she had to get herself out of there and quick. Inhaling two deep breaths, Anaya slowly reached her hand up to her visor, praying to whatever holy entity that her keys were up there.

"Aw, just fuck me!" Her spare keys were long gone.

The steering wheel took most of her physical abuse as she hit it multiple times over and over again. The horn suffered the same fate for it was honked on mercilessly for two minutes straight. Sinking back in her seat, she exhaustedly let out a frustrating scream, soon after laughing at herself for getting herself caught in this mess. Had she listened to her inner voice, she could have been full, stomach bloated beyond reason for the dinner she would have eaten. But she just tried to take on something she couldn't chew, literally. Had she been at full strength, she could have played with him a little more; a kiss on his lips there, a claw at his neck there. Who knows what would have happened if that route authorized a few pedestrians. They would probably be in his bed right now trying to out-passion each other. However, that wasn't going to happen, due to his lack of maturity and the fact that she would kill him as soon as she saw him again...and felt much better.

Growling was heard near her, causing her to open one eye and roll it back closed. "I could have sworn we had the biggest meal ever not three hours ago. Are you really that hungry?" The woman began to rub her stomach absently, just thinking about how dire her situation blossomed to be. From the looks of it, there were no homes for miles around here. If she went out looking for help, she would surely get lost. As nocturnal of a creature that she existed, she didn't _feel_ like walking aimlessly around for hours and hours on end trying to find her way back to civilization. During the early years of her life would have produced a better outcome. She would sleep in the trees during the day and prowl around for anything to eat at night. But what changed? Had she become so entirely domesticated as to ignore her natural instincts? For the longest time, this wilderness dwelled as her home that she roamed and trotted through whenever she felt like it. No, she became lazy is all. Since she came upon good living, she didn't feel the need to relive what transpired a part of her so many years ago. If she wanted food, she hunted for it. If she wanted to live, she killed to see another day. If she wanted revenge, she savagely came out the victor . But did a reason remain to do all of that since she _no longer_ experienced it? Was there a reason to indulge herself in those neutral pleasures now that she didn't need to indulge in them as much? Those techniques were mainly used in order for her to _survive_. If so, then what did she need to do in _this_ situation? Should she resort to her survival guide or wait it out to see what would happen next?

_Why is this even a question, you need to leave here at once!_ True, but where would she go? She didn't need to walk around here lost and she wasn't about to do so in her weakened state. The house set before her looked so damn inviting. And it wasn't like she couldn't take care of herself if something bad happened. _Then what do you call this, huh? You sure are 'taking care' of yourself at the moment_. Again, her inner voice sounded in the right, but she truly was stuck, wherever this place is supposed to be. Okay, so what if she wandered around for a little bit and got lost from this place, then what would she do? Possibly wander around for hours and hours until she found civilization again? She persisted in no condition to look for food when she needed it given to her. She didn't _want_ to go out and look and hunt and trap and capture food._ Of course you don't, that's what you need to do!_ Frustration began to build up inside her, indecision as to what her next course of action should be.

Her stomach rumbled in protest from her thinking, demanding that her attention focus solely on it until satisfaction took over. Then she remembered that big refrigerator in the kitchen, hoping that it had some red meat or something in there to quell her thirst. With a final grudging sigh, she made her way back inside, mind screaming in protest for her to get away from there once and for all. That would have been entirely possible, if she had known how to hot-wire a car. As much as it would have pained her to disfigure her baby, it rested as a necessary evil to get herself gone from there.

She made her way through the house to the kitchen, taking a long look to admire the cozy living room she readied to plop down and lie in. Deep-orange walls accented the olive-green corner group, complemented with matching black pillows strewn about lazily across it. Small, black tables sat on either side of the couch, a large, black coffee table resting in the middle. Various paintings of scenes depicting the wilderness and hunting adorned the walls. White doors sat at the back end of the living room, perhaps leading to a small den of some sort? A black cabinet sat to the left of the white doors, odd little decorative quirks placed in a neat manner on top of it. The fireplace however looked the most tantalizing. From the looks of it, the fireplace was made out of some type of rock. Obsidian, maybe, or was it made from a material already that color. Not even black paint could produce something so glossy. The shiny ebony object sparkled in all its glory even without any light to shine on it. Stacks of wood adorned the side of it, telling the user that it rendered ready for utilization. Anaya bent down to stare at the thing some more, picturing herself with some hot chocolate and a good book to read while the fire blazed and cackled away.

Yet that would have to wait a moment while she gazed around for something to eat. Upon opening up the refrigerator brought forth the outcome she looked for, finally. Various sizes of red meat adorned the refrigerator walls, but this wasn't the neatly butchered meat one finds in the meat department at a store. This meat was cut in disproportionate pieces; the pieces of meat looked freshly cut from some kind of animal or something.

"So, my admirer is a bit of a woodsman," she mused aloud. That's something she found attractive in a man. It meant that he knew his way around danger and wasn't afraid to challenge it head on. Sounded very fitting to the idiot that brought her here, though. As much as she wanted it to be the red, packaged meat with all the blood and whatnot, it would have to do. She reached into the fridge and grabbed the first thing she saw, opening the packaged meat and tearing into the red rump that lied before her. It wasn't as pleasant as a fresh, live kill but she didn't have any other choice at the moment. Looking into the fridge once more, three livers were sealed away in a plastic container. Not having much thought about anything else, those were quickly devoured by the woman as well. That sensation, that feeling of satisfaction flowing through her body started to wake up those dormant cells needed to replenish her energy, her being. This feeling accompanied a rush of sorts; the rush to replenish whatever had been left dry by the lack of nutrients. But alas, the rush to deliver that energy started to fade, once her body realized that it wasn't the correct nutrients her body needed. Anaya groaned internally, knowing that it couldn't replace her regular intake of food, but she would take it with a grain of salt however how long it would last. How long, well she didn't know but it had to be enough.

Once she cleaned up whatever mess she made, since this house's image would be tarnished if one speck of dirt lied around, she tried putting weight on her bad leg, almost losing her balance yet again for it wasn't prepared to be healed yet. Her regenerative factor should have healed any injuries she upheld when she finished the fight. It tookg her too long to move about regularly, almost too slow for her liking. Whatever animal she just ate would aid that process along just fine, keeping her hopes up that it would happen sooner than later.

Dawn was began to seep over the horizon, letting her know how long she _slept_ in that rut. Upon inspection of the house, the only clock she found so far showed on the stove, red lettering flashing the numbers 4:25 on its display. She also didn't see a phone anywhere in this place, wondering if that was done on purpose or if it situated somewhere else in the house. Where would she sleep? Common sense told her to rest on the couch to listen out for anything strange in the place, yet she had to see if a phone was upstairs that she could use.

"Decisions, decisions. Damn it." Trusty knife in hand, she hobbled her way towards the stairs, thankful that it had thick, sturdy railings that she could balance the majority of her weight on. The top of the floor housed four different doors, two of them disappearing down hallways that were on either side of the door. The staircase led to the biggest door of them all, what she assumed to be the master bedroom. And a master it bloomed to be.

The room shone pitch black upon entering, eyes adjusting to the new view, turning on the light switch to view the room in its entirety. Cream walls expanded the size of the white and plum-colored bed that stood upon heightened steps. Matching curtains probably the reason why the room seemed black, even with the windows open, letting in the lightning sky. A Persian run with specks of the two colors took over the majority of the room.

She walked over to a white door and opened it. Peeking inside, the huntress was greeted by a large walk-in closet. Various pants, shirts and suits hung cleanly off of wire hangers. The large wall unit stood to the opposite of the bed; the stand being filled with books, decor, and candles all set in its own little cubicle. To the side of the bed stood another door, which could only lead to the bathroom, she supposed. The two night stands on either side of the beckoning piece of furniture held two lamps, but nothing more. No phone located in this room either.

Double doors led out to what must have been a small balcony, leading to the massive view of the nature that occupied this part of the world. Now that she confirmed that no phone lived in the place, what could she do? Going down those stairs would have been a pain as much as going up them. And how could she even attempt to do that when her body yearned to pass out in that luxuriously, comfy bed? Curtains closed, concealing the room in complete darkness as Anaya made her way to the bed. Thinking that she rested in her own home so similar to this one she quickly took off her shoes and dirty, white pants, leaving her only in her shirt, panties and socks. Her body was too tired to do anything else for the day, needing to regain some strength to decide what she planned to do for the next day. First though, she would take a nice, hot bath and pamper herself before any decision of any sort be made. Interesting, she thought, as this room had the scent of magnolia once she settled herself down in the plush covers. Did it seem possible that a woman slept in this room before her? Did her admirer have a wife out of town and he used this time to play? Oh well. Maybe the wife would come back and she could tell how badly he misbehaved. That thought left a smile on her face, however brief.

"This asshole may be a brute, but he sure has a sharp eye for detail. I hope he won't mind me staying in here. After all, I am the guest of honor," she thought to herself, yawning leisurely before letting Mr. Sandman take her away. _The couch would be a safer alternative._ Her mind wasn't ready just yet to let her off the hook. "The couch takes too long to get to and I'm already in the bed," she mumbled, not wanting to listen to any more chit-chat from herself. The last thought to enter her mind was of the two boys fleeing from their past; future uncertain as they vanished into the night as life awaited them.

* * *

**A/N: If you were taken away and woke up in a strange place, what would you do? Stay put to see if you knew your surroundings or get the hell up outta there? I'm sure the response would be the latter, but you always can't have the same thinking as everyone else, lol.**

**Anaya has this stubborn attitude and thinks that she can get away with everything since she has this strong-will, but it isn't always everything, ya know? If I was her, I'd book it, no matter where it would take me. At least I'd be away from that place. I'm not waiting to see who brought me there!**

**Ah well, drop me a note kiddies, don't be shy...**


	5. This House Is Not A Home

**Here I am, back with another chapter to entertain you guys. . Enjoy!**

**Chapter 5: This House Is Not A Home**

**Fourteen hours after leaving Anaya...**

The mission was a complete success. Once the team dispatched into their respective positions, it was all a matter of divide and conquer. From their positions, they could see an army battalion of about fifty men standing around a medium sized house, detailed to the brim with palm trees and statues. Outside of the house were little shacks made out of the environment surrounding them; sticks, logs, grass and mud barely made the little huts stable enough to live in. In the center of the area were scantily-clad women that kept the fire going, sending sparks shooting to the treetops each time they added more wood. The young women looked to be no more than fourteen; bodies wearing visible dirt spots and smudges down their legs and faces. More than likely these girls were kidnapped when no one looked from their small villages and forced into prostitution. Scenes like this were becoming more and more repetitive the more "technologically inefficient" the countries were, left to defend for themselves when their government wasn't "logically efficient" to care for them.

"Same note, different song," Victor mused to himself. If he had his way, he would probably take one of these girls behind the shack to get rid of the current stress that built inside of him due to his "prostitute" at home. The whole time on the way over, that chocolate bunny plagued his mind, blocking out the mission briefing Stryker was so adamant in explaining. Whatever the old fart said to him didn't really register in his mind for he made the first attack on the unsuspecting guards; the actual mission itself taking only half an hour to complete. Victor killed almost the whole army battalion before the rest of the team could react to his sudden movements. Stryker scolded at him lightly, but sustained content nevertheless.

He found the so-called mutant in question, some lithe male that possessed the power to turn certain objects into water. He quickly neutralized the scared punk before he could even _think_ about attacking. The quicker he finished the mission, the sooner he could finish this shit and get back home. If Anaya had somehow escaped, he would be one _pissed_ off sonofabitch. Naivety wasn't something he easily indulged in, but it remained possible that she _did_ escape. Would be quite hard for her to do so since she didn't know her location _and_ the fact that he took both sets of keys to her car. She could go and try to call for help, but there wasn't a phone installed in his house and there weren't any neighbors for miles around. Said log manor carried on seclusion way in the mountains; only way to get to and fro subsisted with a car. In _his_ case however...

Normally, he wouldn't be chasing after a woman this long except if his orders demanded so, mainly because they were a hassle and he only wanted one thing from them. Yet _this _one threw him a curve ball. She wasn't like the normal, screaming-bloody-murder, whores that he accustomed himself to. Cat-hellion that she lived as, she wasn't afraid of him, stood up to him and even toyed with him a little to get his guard down. How much he would toy with her wasn't decided, but he set out to enjoy every minute of what he did to her. If she had any brains to her then she would enjoy his luscious pad until he returned, if she escaped her room that is. Wanting to get back as soon as possible lasted his top priority, yet he continued this feeling that Wade wasn't going to make it any easier by any means necessary.

**On the Plane**

"Why is the big, bad kitty nervous all of a sudden? Are you making your brain overheat by thinking too much or is there something on your mind?" Wade teasingly said while sharpening his katana with a water stone. Victor didn't even want to acknowledge his adversary for it would lead him to continue to abuse him with his useless chatter. Eyes remained closed and breathing even to steel his nerves calm, yet Wade persevered.

"I'm just saying. Not like you to just charge out there like Rambo without Pops giving the orders first. Tryin' to show us up out there or what?"

"_Ain't nothing out there to show up because there ain't nothin' to show_," thought a bitter Victor. None of those idiots in the squad could go one on one with him and win. With all the patience he had and the years spent together the feral mutant learned a lot of things about each member, especially in the way they fought. Members such as John Wraith and Fred Dukes kept the same attack pattern every time they went into battle. Mr. Zero was Stryker's lap dog, Wade the front man, and Bradley just seemed useless in Victor's eyes; only shutting down electronic equipment when needed. Terminating them would be _far_ too easy should it ever come down to it. He learned that while Stryker needed _them_ to achieve _his_ goals, he would turn their backs on them if he saw fit. The others may have been oblivious to it, but Victor saw through him all the way.

Wade continued, "I'm just saying, you're clacking your nails together like you're waiting for something…or someone...Who is it? I say the word **"it"** because I don't really know which way you swing. Half the time you look at me like you want to eat me, in the cannibal sense or the erotic sense I'm not sure, but that could also mean in the fighting sense as well. You know-"

"I don't ...give... a flying... fuck, Wade."

"Well, fine then. But you know what I like to do when I get anxious?"

Victor didn't even bother with a reply. Talking further would just encourage him.

"I like to sing happy songs."

At this, the team started to groan, heads shaking and eyes rolling in what pointed towards an annoying, but funny venture. Most of the teammates realized that Wade did this to purposefully aggravate Victor, since those two claimed to be stronger than the other. The team went on more and more solo missions instead of staying together, achieving Stryker's plans as a single unit and joining together when need be. Since they were starting to spend less and less time together, Wade saw this as the perfect opportunity to "reminisce."

"Remember that song that we used to sing together, the one where I would take the lead-"

"All the songs you screeched out only had the main person singing, man. The chorus doesn't count," offered John Wraith, a dark-skinned mutant who began to shake his head,taking his cowboy hat off and dusting some dirt off of it.

"True, my voice is made of gold, but remember the island song we all used to do-"

"Again, you did the singing, and the rest of us joined in to cover over your awful one."

"Ouch, Johnny boy, way to crush a man's ego!"

"It takes a lot more than my words alone to do anything to you, man," John laughed heartily, placing his hat back on his head.

"Yeah well, why not do one for the road, boys. Come on, I'll start off-"

"Wade," Victor really, really, _really_ wasn't in the mood to listen to any more of his voice, but his words went unnoticed by the mercenary.

"_An island lost at sea_, _oh_-wait that's not how it starts off. Wait, here we go-_A year has passed since_-shit! What's the first lyric? _My loneliness, anyone can bear_...fuck a hippie, that ain't it either!"

John, Bradley, and Dukes bowed their heads into their necks and started snickering, little fits of tittered laughter filling the silence of the plane due to the merc making a sincere attempt to remember the lyrics to the "island song"

"_Message in a bottle_. Hot dog, that's it!" He started to sing.

"_Just a castaway, an island lost as sea, ooooh."_

"_Another lonely day, no one here but me ooooooh."_

Wade started tapping his foot on the floor, snapping his fingers in an off-rhythm vibe while singing out of tune on the song. Facial expression twisted to match whatever word closely resembled the song he sung.

"_More loneliness, any man can beaaarrrr."_

"_Rescue me before I fall into despair, ohhhhhhhh." _

Wade pointed the end of the saya at Dukes's mouth, prompting the muscular mutant to sing a piece._ "I'll send an SOS to the world, I'll send an SOS to the world."_ Only Wraith and Dukes sung it together, joining in on the improv of beat-making for the song.

"_I hope that someone gets my..."_

The merc turned his sheathed katana to Victor, pointing the end of it so that the feral mutant could sing along. Victor however, only looked at him like he said something _intelligent_. There wasn't a chance in _hell_ that he would even _think_ about opening his mouth and acknowledging Wade in something that insignificant. His nerves were already on edge and he was more than positive that Wade was trying to push him over.

"_I hope that someone get my..._"

The same action repeated, Wade would sing a verse then his saya would be held out in front of Victor to join in, face was all scrunched up in irritation for the thing ventured too _close_ to his face. One more time. Wade had one more time to do that shit before the brute would attack. Just straight out attack him and he would be rid of that fucking mouth forever. He could envision it now, blood soaking his fingernails as the mercenary clutched his throat, wide-eyes staring in surprise that his death came so unexpectedly. The others may have found this to be hilarious, but Victor didn't need to waste his time with such nonsense.

Too bad Mr. Wilson didn't hear his thoughts for he pressed on with the song, voice rising a fewer octaves to reach his climatic finish.

"_I hope that someone gets my-message in a booottlee, whoa-oh-oh-yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh-"_

"For fucks sake Wade, shut up!" Victor snapped at him angrily; the growl in his voice coming out to let him know how serious he was.

"...Okay Mr. Grumpy Cave Man. I'll be quiet. I'll stop my singing," Wade wiped the side of his nose, left eyebrow arching up in the air to give off this aloof manner. He continued, "But one day, you'll see my face at the Grammy's and you'll wish you took the time to listen to me." Giggles exploded from the merc in a little explosion of air for he could not keep up the playful facade. The rest of the team sat quietly then; the mood spoiled by Victor's foul aura and mood. The two never really got along, even more so now. James had the ability to convince Victor to _tolerate_ Wade if only for a little while; the swordsman would deem them 'boring' and go off somewhere else. Since James was no longer apart of the team, the merc took all the time to rub Victor the wrong way, _on purpose._

At least now that his aggravation showed apparent, everyone would keep quiet for a while.

"Even though you have silenced my singing, do you mind if I hum the melody, then?"

Laughter came back in smothered giggles, hands flew over faces as the laughs became louder. No matter how grim the situation or the mood everyone resided in, Wade inhabited the uncanny ability to make everyone lose their depressed state and move closer to his jovial one. With the exception of James, Stryker and Victor, they lost their laughter somewhere in the sea of grouchiness.

It was going to take all of the feral's sanity to keep from making good on his envisioning, for the mercenary was about two seconds away from making it come true.

**S-s-S-s-S**

The plane landed in an open field, the grass long since barren and dry now that the season slowly faded into winter. Circular dirt patches littered the field, weeds of the earth forming a thick ring around it. Perhaps events were hosted on this empty lot or some other natural causes caused it to be like this. Either way, this part of the city wasn't inhabited much, resources too far away into town to travel the lengthy distance. Victor requested to be dropped off here so as to survey the area for her scent in case she ran off. He knew this part of the woodlands back and forth, no unfamiliar stone left unturned for this is _his_ territory. He knew secret passages and routes that led in and out of the hills. If anyone tried to escape, they were bound to run into him one way or another, most likely getting lost along the way to run _into_ him.

Fifteen minutes later, the feral mutant found himself walking up his driveway; the earthy smell of the wild allowing his mind to forget about the incident on the plane. This exuded his favorite way to get rid of his anxiousness. The animal scents and rotting wood flesh reminded him of surviving with nothing except the clothes on his back and his brother at his side. The wind rustling around the leaves carried the scents of mild, nutty plants that they chanced upon eating. Shadows created at night kept them on high alert, snapping branches and creaking twigs gave way to light sleep, never knowing if a bounty hunter snuck in on their location or a hungry beast looked to feed their family. People today don't know what it's like to survive, too domesticated in their own, oblivious world to even acknowledge that they could exist in a setting like that.

As vivid as the reminiscing may have been, it always left the sudden bitterness that gripped around his heart, tugging it towards its pessimistic embrace. They always said that they would look out for one another, and one of them fell through on their promise. Out of all the people killed, maimed or slaughtered by their hands just to survive, Jimmy walked out on him when his heart suddenly found itself again and he felt the need to bail?. What made it so different this time from all the incidents of them expressing their nature? That the village was in Africa or the fact that the whole village authorized an assassination? Only thing that shithole of a place didn't have beheld an arsenal of _men_, not even one inhabitant grew the balls to even go up against one of them. A bunch of little weaklings humans were; there didn't habit a need for them to live anymore. Victor snorted in annoyance, peeved at the fact that his little brother suddenly decided to let his conscious eat at him enough to quit on him, when killing became almost second nature to them for the _longest_.

The departure of James wasn't only lost on Victor, Stryker lost out on his best man. James ordained as his go-to mutant when he needed something done quick and fluent. Zero stayed in the old man's back pocket and Wade was a distraction in himself; the rest of the fellas didn't quite make the cut because they couldn't fit the bill. When his brother left the scene, Victor went out and proved that he prevailed as the bigger, badder, and better soldier than the rest of them combined in any transaction; as he set out to do now.

"Oh Miss Kitty, your ball of yarn is ready to _play_ with you..."

Approaching the house closer convinced the mutant to take stealth steps to his destination. It sustained a much better option to sneak up on her instead of her gearing up the courage to strike at him, since she would have heard his footsteps coming to claim her. There really wasn't anywhere for her to run to since she was out in the middle of nowhere and there didn't urge a need for him to worry about her doing so. Who knows, it just might be a little fun for her to run out into the woods and play the game of mouse and tiger. He needed to stretch his legs and do something a little different this time. Hopefully she lingered in a better mood than the last encounter, but considering the circumstances of what happened, she might try and kill him with something.

Victor made his way into the living room, taking his time to open the door to take in his surroundings. From the view, everything seemed as normal as when he left it the first time. He closed the door behind him, eyes trained and focus on the kitchen to sense his prey. Though there breathed this odd smell that seemed to waver around in the kitchen and grow stronger the more he walked into it. It kind of reminded him of the stuffy smell that accumulated down in the basement since there weren't any vents it could divert out of.

He had a feeling that might happen.

He walked at a fast pace to the center of the kitchen, looking to his right and down the stairs for the door to his basement. He didn't need to look down there to see that the door sprung off its hinges, but he did so anyways. Apparently, the little cat-hellion endured a lot stronger than he thought. Then again it didn't really take much to take a door _off_ its screws. What amazed him, somewhat, remained the fact that she did that _while_ injured. Just as fitting, for she had almost two whole days to recover and regain some of her strength back. As miffed as he felt about her escape, he had to give it to the girl's tenacity. Not only did she prove that she commanded a force, no matter how small, to be reckoned with, she also indirectly told him off, refusing to stay put in the space provided for her. Since he desired to hunt, now happened the time to track his prey down and bring it back to devour.

Brown spots on the floor stole his attention, wondering if it belonged to his little deviant. It seemed likely that she could have still leaked blood if she immediately broke out of the basement. He discovered another spot on the refrigerator, as if someone lead him to clues about her whereabouts. Upon opening the refrigerator Victor gave out an incredulous huff, seeing all the meat he stored away long gone. Perhaps the woman made herself a little _too _comfortable. Meals typically weren't provided to frails during their stay, just some wild berries were given to keep them from passing out all the way. Oh well, he would just charge her extra for her usage of his supplies.

"First the bitch escapes, and then cleans out my fridge." He closed the door, mind made up to search the other half of the forest when the sound of trickling water reached his hearing on the other side of the house. Ears zoned in on the sound, listening to the uneven sprays of water clashing against the tiled floor. A full minute passed before a small smirk crept onto his thin lips. She bathed upstairs, getting all sweet and clean for him when he was about to make her bathe in his scent. Perhaps he would go easy on her for she saved him from roaming around outside when the time could be spent _in_ her. Victor walked into the living room, rolling his arms back and cracking the bones in his neck. He reached the stairs, taking one giant leap to land right in front of his bedroom. From the crack in the bedroom door, he could see that the sheets on his bed were all rumpled; the cover barely hanging on for dear life to the side of the bed. Adding up all the supplies she used made the smirk on his face even bigger, seeing as to how she didn't have any money to pay for her stay here. But that's okay, he wasn't interested in her paying him through monetary means. The feral mutant made his way over to the small sofa beside the bed, patience waiting out until his 'guest' came out of the bathroom

**Anaya's POV**

Drinking her own blood.

That's how she was able to keep what little strength she held onto. Of course this little façade didn't last though, it only left her feeling as incomplete as it did before. She would lie in the bed and take a bite out of her wrist every three hours just to keep her inner demon from going berserk. For nearly two days she did this; the sensation fulfilling her for a certain amount of time before the same empty feeling came back to gnaw at her. Moving as little as possible proved to be an energy saver, along with keeping the curtains closed to keep the sunny rays from draining her further. It wasn't a complete bore, for she had the chance to catch up on some of her favorite re-runs on the big TV in the room. Most of the time she just slept the day away, and it established as a pleasant sleep at that, somewhat. At night, the animals would come together and produce a concoction of wild sounds that allowed her to drift off into an even deeper slumber.

What she couldn't figure out though; the absence of her admirer. Her first night in the comfy bed allowed full hour-long naps, listening out for any noises that might signal that someone entered in the house. Morning came and strode by without any presence of the man, causing her to wonder exactly what his deal was. He clearly made his intentions known to defile her yes, but _why_ did he bring her _here_? Doing away with her in the alley and killing her she could understand, yet why would he go through all that trouble to bring her to his home? Thinking back to the stained mattress it appeared somewhat obvious that he wanted to kill her, judging from all the blood on the soiled thing. Possibly he truly is some type of psycho, maiming people in the privacy and comfort of his abode in the most atrocious manner. If it just so happened that he took joy in that hobby, then she would book it out of there. _So why are you still here? What use would it be to die trying to escape when you could have reached someone to help you. Two days...you had _two days _to escape here! _

True, what her mind said made a lot of sense. However, what good conducting an escape be when she didn't _know_ where she was? She had went outside to get a better view of her surroundings since the sunny light uncovered the blanket of darkness around the forest. There was a little dirt trail that led out into the thicket of bushes, but that's where the trial ended. How did her car get up here without going on a trail? If it rode on the dry grass, then there would have been two tracks running through it, but it wasn't there. Nothing but the woodlands surrounded her from all sides. What were to happen if she left this place and ended up walking in circles? Getting lost twice as badly than if she were to just stay there? Rest assured, she would have left the minute she woke up if she knew how to hotwire a car. No man or woman can determine her death. That decision belonged to _her_.

Sighing at the entirety of the situation, she decided to patch herself up, grabbing a spare change of clothes and condiments that she kept in her trunk on her way back from surveying the area. Her walk improved from her inactive mobility the majority of the time, yet that limp still had some repairing to do. Maybe the shower will ease the coiled up muscles; might as well take the opportunity to use everything this place has to offer.

Taking only her soap, body wash, and lotion into the bathroom, she set her sights on the semi-circular tub built into the wall. Large brown, tiled covering adorned the floor and the wall the vanity sat against, giving off this comfortable vibe in the room. Brown shelves held bathroom décor and varying towel sizes, completing the scene with a large painting depicting a scenery much like the one outside. What could be more relaxing than a nice, hot bubble bath to soothe her aching body? No matter how inviting the thing looked, she needed to make this quick. Stubbornness was one of her traits and it _often_ overlooked the logical side of things. Now that she thought about it, why would she wait until the guy came back to torment her? It wasn't like she assumed the role of some hapless sack of bones that couldn't fend for herself, nevertheless this whole situation just seemed so bizarre. A part of her wanted to delve in the dangerous, wanted to tango with someone that could keep up with her just for a change. It grew lonely not having someone else besides Valerie to talk to, but this guy had to just go and _ruin_ it! "Oh what sadistic plans to you have in store for me, Mr. Kidnapper?" she said tonelessly.

The more she pondered about it, the more peeved she grew. After everything that happened, _now_ came the time to see her foolishness sink in to her brain. Her consciousness showed every sign of being right all along. She should have high-tailed it out of that alley as soon as she saw the brute kill those boys. Even so, something about him _intrigued_ her to stay. Maybe it held a magnetic confidence or perhaps he didn't follow the qualities of a human. Perchance she held onto the fact that he could tell her about other mutants and if there were more like her. But seeing what little manners he had, talking seemed like something the idiot wasn't interested in. All this thinking made her head spin, realizing that it suggested a fruitless endeavor to do so when she could've fled. Go away and escape from here, then come back with artillery to kill the bastard dead. There outlasted a strong doubt that the police could do anything about it, so matters would have to be taken into her own hands.

Across from the tub stood a large, see-through shower, exposing everything and concealing nothing from anyone who walked in or even _watched_. As fancy of a place that this came to be, there probably hid a camera somewhere, recording her every action to the viewer. Well, watch on hidden admirer, if one actually hid, for it would be the _last_ time it saw her or her body. Might as well give the pervert a taste of something he would never get a chance to sample.

After taking a shower, careful to avoid moving around too quickly, she wrapped a comfy towel around her body and her head, moving over to the foggy mirror to take a deeper look at herself. The cut on the right side of her temple healed just fine, but it left a rather nasty, purple bruise in its place. No amount of makeup would cover that up, not that she wore the painted materials much anyway. She reached around and felt her lower back in tiny knots. The slam that she took from her brute left her relatively stiff, causing her to hunch forward to release some of the pressure on her spine. Small, dark circles were present under her eyes, lack of sleep and constant worry the cause of the eyesore. "As soon as I get out of here, I'm promising myself to a full day at the spa... and a trip to the gun shop." she bitterly muttered. Satisfied that she didn't look like a total loss, she applied lotion to her dry skin, the moisturizing feeling calming her into a neutral state.

Honestly, what was the gain to be had in all this? The man saw something that he wanted and couldn't have, so he decided to take it? Was he the type to do something horrific to someone because he couldn't take rejection well? Sounded like someone had some psychological issues growing up as a child. No one _aspired_ to be...whatever kind of social misfit that he grew to be. People didn't go around saying, "When I grow up, I want to be a sociopath someday." Something often traumatic happened early on in their lives and it made them turn out that way. Exhaling sharply at her mind pondering on this even further, she finished up the task at hand, putting on a thick, burgundy robe that hung on the back of the bathroom door. It wouldn't matter that she thought about this situation any longer, she would leave and never see this place again. Her car, as much as that was her baby, would have to stay here until, possibly, she could find a way to get it back. Just the idea of doing so was enough to make her stomach hurl; they had been through some stuff together. She opened up the door, stepping outside to get ready to dress herself when her eyes looked to the other side of the room, body frozen and internally screaming for mercy.

The vixen never wanted to run more in her life.

**S-s-S-s-S**

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Last time I saw you I broke you in half, and not the way that I intended to." Victor sat on the chair, left arm propped on his knee, hand holding his tilted head. Eyes unabashedly roamed over what little curves he could see under all that thick fabric. If one were to view the scene, they would say that the husband patiently waited for his wife to take _forever_ to get ready; the husband just sitting there and admiring the woman he came to adore.

_Right_.

In order for him to _adore_ her, he needed to have to get a much, _closer_ look.

Apparently someone's senses were taking an undeserved break for allowing the man of her nightmares to come in here without her detection. Her sense of smell shouldn't have_ failed _her if anything else! Eyes repeatedly glanced at the door and window, trying to discern which would have been her best way of escaping. Hands clenched and unclenched in nervousness. She hadn't expected him to be here so...quickly. Did he stay in a separate room watching her all the while and finally decided to show himself when she finished? Question after question formed in her head, but she stayed rooted in her place, wondering where these events could lead to next.

"Well, don't you look pretty." Victor stood up from the sofa, walking slowly around the bed to gain a closer look.

"Where were you?" She moved over to the bed, stepping on it so as to go around and get away from him. Due to the soft mattress, it caused her weight to become balanced, her hip screaming as quick, sharp pains stabbed at her injured limb.

"Away. Killin'. Maimin'. Shooting, you know...guy stuff." Victor gave her his dismissive response, silently observing that her leg still acted up and he would move to take advantage of that as soon as she slipped up. Though her heavenly scent made him want to go easy on her...almost. He moved over to the foot of the bed, leaning over the railing as to trap her from making any sudden exits. Her weight shifted from foot to foot, the good leg trying to support the whole of her weight while balancing on the bed. It worked for about a good three seconds until her right leg gave out completely, causing her to fall flat on her butt. Victor moved to the right side of the bed where she was, bending over her to hold her in place. The mutantess quickly sat up, evading his touch all together and not quite gaining a hold of her footing, slipping on the silky comforter and falling into the wall. At the last minute she realized that the impact gave way to offending her right arm, eyes closing and bracing for the pain to come.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Getting all excited will do that to you," Victor moved over to her, standing directly in front of her to block any efforts of fleeing.

Her mind grew fuzzy, blinded by the sheer agony coursing through her appendage, but she grabbed enough sense to try and escape. Victor put up both hands on either side of her face, lowering down some until they were at eye level. Round, almond eyes stared back at him; the surprise in them evident but the cold, hard glare supplied the foundation for how she truly felt. Any sensible woman would have _fled_ this place as soon as the opportunity arose. No one told her to stay and enjoy herself, and there wasn't a reason for her to get mad at him; the blame lied solely on _her_.

"That look in your eyes...it doesn't look like you're happy."

"Fuck you." The look in her eyes could have withered blossoming flowers into nothing.

"Fuck me? I think you have it all wrong, frail." He took her chin in his grip, forcing her to face him but the little hellion didn't want to look at him with her eyes. "You got yourself into this mess and you really can't blame me for not letting you out of it."

Deep purple eyes gazed at him in defiance, willing him to repeat what he said. He met her with that look head on, eyes locking onto hers and willing the woman to look at him like that, for entirely different reasons. Victor lit a fire within her soul, the flames of resistance lashing out under her faulty control to burn him with all its intensity. To her it might have been assault or whatever, it's just that he was a control freak. He wanted to do things his way or there would be some consequences. There belied a great enjoyment when one lost their control and he existed as the cause of it, breaking their will for his personal enjoyment. And this woman was no different than the others. What made it so much more of a challenge; her lovely backbone, not hesitant to tell him off or to use her womanly wiles to trick him into letting his guard down. Let's see how far she can tame herself before he _allowed _her beast to come into the light.

"I left you in a specific room where you were supposed to stay."

"I left that room because it was disgusting." She scrunched her face at recalling the room.

He cocked his head to the side and grinned, baring his fangs in triumph for her control began to slip.

She continued, "And I don't like people in my personal space."

"Well, allow me to move myself." He pushed himself on Anaya, causing her to sharply hitch her breath at the sudden action. Cotton-covered arms crossed themselves over a plush chest, denying the man in front of her full contact all the way through. He lightly chuckled at the act, knowing that all he had to do was move the silly limbs out of the way before he claimed her body in full. However, for now, he would allow her to think that she still had some control in the situation.

She tried to wriggle out from beneath him, heavy fucker was as solid as a brick. She tried to turn on her side to move, but he blocked her body with those chunky arms. Legs tried to slide down the wall but he pressed into her further, plastered between the immovable object before her and the solid foundation. Conserving energy prevailed a necessary must now that he came back. One blow to her person and she would be down and out for good. Seriously, there occupied no other way out of this? What if she tried to reason with him instead of trying to seduce him? The latter caused her to get slapped up side the head, and then that wouldn't benefit her any again. Eyes averted him all this time, slightly afraid to see what resided in those grey peepers.

Victor brought his claw to her chin and traced her jawline all the way up to the bruise on the right side of her face, claw elongating to make her feel what he would do to her in the power struggle he created. He scratched along the side of her face to his destination, but nowhere near hard enough to draw blood. Raising an eyebrow, he tried to sound sympathetic when he asked her, "Aww, did I do that?" The bruise was a deep purple in color, resting just above her temple.

The look she gave him caused his face to become expressionless. There was no more of the teasing going on, she turned _mad_. Her full lips thinned, jaw clenched and unclenched in intervals of her repressed anger. Her eyes narrowed, giving off the impression that she set out to do harm to whoever wronged her.

And he liked it.

Frails were all the same to him; little girls who became angry, embarrassed, or scared to death in the situation he put them in. It lingered something about _them _indirectly giving _him_ their control through his intimidation. Those who held onto it were given a challenge to see how long they could hold onto it, and just what they were willing to do to keep it. Though, once they found out that the attempt was useless, the challenge ended and he _took_ his prize.

"You really do know how to piss a person off. Really, why me? There was a shitload of whores back in that bar you could have snatched up."

"Miss high-and-mighty needed to come off of her high horse and...it's time for me to get a little variety in."

"Please don't feed me that lame-ass excuse. So, what's your real reason?"

"Simple. I wanted to fuck you." Creed wrapped his long arms around her waist, despite her arms being folded. He pulled her close while her upper lip curled in distaste, making an irritated exhale to make her dislike at being man-handled known. He stared at her, taking in her features while caressing her backside, made even softer since there weren't any undergarments to hide her vanity. And what reason did she have to complain? She should have taken it as a compliment; that a man wanted a woman with a little self-respect for herself instead of the usual "easy" selection that had been used up. And she should have known by now that he was a go-getter; what Victor Creed wants, Victor Creed gets. Smirking wide at his encouragement, though he didn't need any, he leaned down to capture her lips, yet her maneuver proved to be quicker. Her head turned to the side, exposing her cheeks to his awaiting assault.

"I don't think so, buddy. This still applies to the first-date rule, and you're not gonna receive any luvin' from me until about the fifth date, if _I _still have an interest in you." Let him relax around her for a few minutes before she instigated an attack to get away from him, through whatever means of escaping. She would just have to time her attack in the right moment to avoid being knocked out. By his current level of eagerness, his guard will drop down even lower if she led him on just _a wee_ bit more, reminding herself that he may be putting on a front in case she did a repeat from earlier. Her eyes focused on the sight before her, giving the smallest of smirks as her peepers roamed around in an aloof manner.

Victor silently observed her, noticing her slight change in behavior the longer she kept up the act. The woman was borderline pissed at him and all of a sudden she was _happy_? Such a terrible act if he'd ever seen one. It brewed obvious she was on another one of her womanly traps to get him to lower his defenses, and he wasn't about to fall for that. As much as he wanted her cooperation, however he didn't need it, he liked her better when she had that attitude, made it easier for her to slip up then he would have his way with her. "Now who's the one feeding the bullshit excuse?" He moved in closer to her face, upping his enthusiasm to make her come out of that innocent twaddle she tried to lead him on with.

Her neck came under his attack, biting back an unexpected moan that threatened to release from the confines of her throat. Obviously he had honed in on those romance skills of his, for her legs twitched and moved around in response to the sensation. If only his attitude could go along with it, then this wouldn't be _such_ a problem. Perhaps her aloof behavior enticed him too much?

"I'm not on any bullshit. Had you been a little more 'Romeo' instead of 'Rapist' you would have gotten much more positive results!" Focusing on her objective became a little harder than usual thanks to his increased vigor. Of course, it wouldn't be all _that_ bad if she indulged in his ministrations just a _little_ bit, but she needed to keep a clear head of things. What good would it be if she succumbed to his advances? It would _defeat_ her whole purpose of escaping in the first place.

"Take, take, take. Isn't that what this world is all about. Take what you want and look after your _own_ interests? Why should I be any different?"

"Because there might be someone out there who may be willing to _give_ it to you?"

"My patience is too low to wait."

"Good things come to those who wait."

"Never really sat well with me." He moved in to capture her lips but she dodged again. "And since you don't have any money to pay for your stay, it's gonna have to come out of your ass."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I checked everything you have...from head to toe. Not a penny on you." The burly mutant pressed her even closer to his solid form, barely hearing the gasp that came out of that luscious mouth. She better find out that she wasn't getting out of here without getting some extra fondness from him first, or die trying. Whomever he used or killed wasn't that much of a concern. He looked out for his own concerns and if he needed to utilize someone to get closer to his goals, then so be it.

"Well the host wasn't here to entertain his guest," she said sarcastically, teeth gritting in anger for she dug a little bit into his mind, and found out something unpleasant lurking in there. Honestly, she thought that he just wanted a good time and that's it. Just so happened that he kept a bigger agenda floating in his mind and that made her a bit aggravated, to be used and thrown away like garbage. Who gave him that kind of authority? Walking around like some type of king or royal highness? She wasn't about to be used by _anybody_. Eyes turned a shade darker, glittering ominously for she had something for him to _use_ all right.

Victor misinterpreted the look for lust, her hand reached around his neck and pulled him to her lips, kissing and gnawing on them in an intensive manner. He returned the kiss with just as much exuberance, securing her body around his with his muscular arms. Her lips were even softer than he imagined, body solidly built but soft and feminine in all the right areas. Lips bitten in an urgent manner, tongue pressing against closed teeth to gain access into her moist cavern. In response she slowed down the action even more, pressing deeper into the kiss to allow him a chance to calm down. It seemed to work, the male lulling down his eagerness to enjoy the passion. As alluring as the woman before him shined, there dwindled something he couldn't quite put his finger on; the scent of anger still lingering strongly within her aura. It gave the impression that she lead him on, or perhaps she was fed up with denying the fact that she wasn't going to come out the victor in this situation; that she should just let it happen and that be that. What could she be planning in that crafty mind of hers? A way to stab him in the back?

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," the huntress thought, internally smiling in triumph for his self-doubt had left an opening for her attack. He didn't know which plan of action she harkened to pursue , if any at all, and that left him with his guard down. On the possibility that he knew _precisely_ what she was going to do, then she would have had to re-think her strategy. All she had to do was time the transaction and she would be free from his grasp. Shame really, it felt kind of nice how he knew how to kiss a girl, but not so nice of the way he probably kissed a _ton_ of girls to get it right. Just the thought of it almost ruined what she set up, but she persevered. She let a series of smothered giggles out, lifting her hands to the back of his head to massage it. He let out a low groan, appreciating her efforts by roughly grasping her posterior. Her eyes opened up, giving him the evil eye before closing them again.

"Enjoy it while you can mister, because this will be the last time you'll ever get to do so."

* * *

**A/N:What does our mutantess have in store for the ever-vicious Mr. Creed? It probably won't be anything pleasant, but I'm pretty sure he can handle whatever comes his way...he's just badass like that. **

**I went back as best as I could to try and organize this chapter since there was some confusion about it. The first three sections talks about Victor; the mission, coming back from the mission on the plane, and his trek back to his house. **

**Anaya's POV spans across the time of the last hour of his flight to 10 minutes after he came into the room, and then the story resumes from there in the last section. I hope you guys understand it. I really wanted to write it like this but I had to edit it to make it's easy to understand...hopefully. **


	6. Say It Right

**Sorry for the long wait, but this chapter is finally done. Took me some time to see what I wanted to say because the original didn't say enough and the mature themes in this were...supremely vulgar and unrealistic. I mean Creed's a vulgar guy but the unedited version was...crappy. Don't worry, there will be more of this story to come in the future. **

**Mentionings of adult themes in here so you have been warned...**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Say It Right**

A full minute rolled by as their lips stayed connected. Victor pressing to kiss faster while Anaya continued with her slower, deeper ministrations. It became more apparent that he was in a rush to get some more action in, but she had to pull him deeper into the romance bit, albeit grudgingly, before she struck out at him.

As their lips locked, she pondered what drove a man to take advantage of someone like this, especially a woman. Sure there was the whole power-hungry schtick and wanting to be in control of their territory, whatever that may be, but _why_ did they do it?

Was it the feeling of hopelessness or inadequacy of the person being taken advantage of? Was it the fear of the weak that drove the person to continue taking advantage of them? The feeling of superiority was something that came to those by practice or by natural occurrences, using sly methods to get someone to succumb to their will by feeding off of that weakness. Or maybe it was a simple matter that was the easiest thing to accomplish. Not much thought had to go into taking advantage of someone, unless if it was for specific purposes. Something as small as physical intimidation or intimate teasing could cause others to be swayed to display a weakness. Personally, those who frequently indulged in this pleasure made her sneer in disgust, even more so when the suppressor had immoral motives to achieve.

And what was she trying to achieve exactly?

Wasn't _she_ trying to use sly methods to take advantage of his sexual weakness so that _she_ could complete her ulterior motive of killing him?

"That's different," she scolded herself, moving her right knee in between his legs, lightly rubbing against his groin to entice him further into her trap. She continued with her thoughts. "He _thinks_ he can force me to submit to his whims, but he got something else coming to him." No matter how much she thought about it, these ideals of manipulation did not apply to her! There was no excuse for her to rig anyone since she didn't chance upon precarious situations like this...often.

Thinking that enough time has passed to lure down his defenses some, she drew her knee back enough to hit him squarely in the privates. That lapse in time also enabled her to elbow him in the side of the jaw, causing his grip on her to loosen and for her to run out the door. But escape she would not. Oh no, she was too much fun to just let go of like that. And this was her fault since she didn't flee back at that bar nor when she was left all alone here. What was her argument for staying _here_ like a dummy? Why didn't she try and run when the opportunity arose?

Victor was hot on her tracks, using his agility to catch up to her with little effort. About half way down the stairs did he catch her, grabbing her by the hair and lifting her over his shoulder with her back laying on the hard bone. Aching grunts became louder and louder, each step Victor went down caused her weight to shift to the center of her back.

Honestly, though, why did she stay here when she had more than enough time to leave? So, if she didn't then that meant she _wanted_ to stay right? And if she didn't, then tough.

He dropped her down on the living room couch where she started flailing her limbs around. Not wanting to have more problems added to his nether region in case she hit him there again, he let her go, but not before yanking her head to the opposite end of the couch. It was obvious that she was adamant about submitting to him, what with the way she was giving him a death glare. No one had given him a look like that in a minute, at least none with an intensity like hers. That look spoke volumes of the anger and hostility she was projecting at the moment.

Fuck if it didn't make her look beautiful though!

He liked the fact that she was feisty, probably the reason why he took such a strong liking to her; it was a break from the usual, frightened women he picked up on a regular basis. And it wasn't like she was mad _at_ him for doing this, more along the lines of being angry at herself for _letting_ him do this. If she wanted him to stop, she had a couple of offensive moves under all that sass and there wasn't an excuse for her not to use them. In response to her attack, should she go down that route, he would always be ready to send her back into neutrality. She proved to be quite a challenge, not in the sense that he had to exert an excessive amount of willpower to overcome her, but in the sense of her keeping this game going.

They resided on opposite ends of the couch, each reading the other's move before they provided a counterattack. Anaya had the advantage though, for she could read what was inside that vile mind of his, but she didn't because she already _knew_ what went on in there. Her form was braced in the corner of the couch, one leg placed on the floor whilst the other was propped on the seat, giving him an eyeful of her toned leg. Her hair covered over most of her face ;the robe barely keeping her front under wraps. Being clothed in such a fashion would cause him to drink in her form. Yet that's the puzzling part; his eyes were solely focused on hers and nothing else. He didn't waver his sight to look downward in the middle of staring at each other. Perhaps he tried to set up a mind game with her to throw her off. Just exactly what was going on up in there in that noggin of his? Would she be surprised though, considering what she found up there before?

Large, clawed fingers reached into a pocket, wrapping around something before withdrawing all together. Her eyes stayed on that hand, wishfully hoping that it was what she had hoped it to be, namely her keys. Purple eyes strayed back to grey ones, internally focusing her slight mental powers to dig into his mind. She couldn't take it, curiosity getting the better of her for she needed to know what was in his hand. It's doubtful that he was pulling out a condom before he got busy. Something about him just didn't scream out "safety." More along the lines of silent killer if one wasn't careful.

Anaya never received the chance to scour his mind for a metallic jingle resounded on the table; the sound receiving her full attention as she saw, what was in fact, a set of keys.

Keys. A set of keys. A set of keys with a strawberry pendant around the key ring. That set of keys was hers! That metallic thing was the very source of her escape, and here he was just putting them out there in the front of her, seeing if she would take the initiative to try and escape. And escape she would! If she could grab them and hurt him long enough to flee...Should have done this shit back in the alley so this wouldn't be happening! But if she could just...

Victor already anticipated her actions because as soon as she lunged for the keys, and him following to trap her again, she feigned and tried to kick him in the groin again. He grabbed the long leg and pulled her to him, constraining her to straddle him. That semi-sweet, musky scent always bloomed out of women when they didn't know they were projecting it. The faint smell she exuded back in his room made him want to bask in it, and he wanted to make that scent louder. It made his flesh harden beyond reasoning the stronger it grew. Plus, with the scent mixing in with her own exotic one—oh that made him want to ravage her this instant. But he wouldn't, not just yet.

Her breathing hitched on the point of kissing her, thin lips pushing against her thick ones. Hands clawed at his shoulders as he pressed her further into him. She was not going to let him win. Her body is her temple and no one had the right to trash it, at least not without her permission; not like that will ever going to happen. Those same lips tried turning away from his face, nails scratching as she tried and tried to push away, but he held on to her fast. Her eyes saw the angry, red marks trailing down his face, but they healed over when she had made them. It even seemed like he wasn't fazed by it. No sense in trying to keep that up since it wasn't working.

Victor continued trying to force her mouth open with his powerful tongue but she kept denying him entrance. Again, if circumstances were different, then this scene would have been more pleasurable to both parties. All that was needed was an informal introduction on his behalf and she would have considered it. Not like she would have just flat-out had sex with him, but who knows what the fuck would have happened with those handsome, rugged looks he had.

She tried forming words between his lips, successfully prying her face away from his, but allowing him to latch onto her neck in return. A surprised moan escaped her, mouth clamping shut once she heard the sound made. He must have enjoyed that sound, laughing in the crook of her neck before resuming his feast on that spot.

"I hate you," she muttered, steeling her nerves from sparking the flames of passion from increasing further, because his tongue groping her neck felt _damn_ good. Of that, she wouldn't deny.

He offered another chuckle, giving his response to her statement. "Haven't you heard that the lasting loves often blossom from hatred?"

What kind of love would blossom out this predicament exactly? The twisted sort of love where they could never be together due to their different circumstances? The kind where they would keep running into each other and soon act civil towards one another; taking time out to see what made the other person who they are and accept them? Oh, how about the love they would share when they started to grow on one another after everything they went through? Bah! All of that, just foolishness. The only thing that would spawn out out of this was pure contempt. Nothing positive could come out of an experience like this and if it did, then there was only the promise of civility.

He interpreted her silence being a sign that she thought about what he said. That saying turned out to be true for a lot of people. Often times, people attach themselves to those they despise the most. Whether they were wronged or wanted revenge for being wronged, that hate converges into a _twisted_ feeling. A _very_ twisted one. A deep obsession of emotions spiral around and consumes one's logical thinking, not knowing how to distinguish those feelings into the correct category. And at the end of it all, it comes out to be love, well...the fucked up version of it.

His hands dove around her hips to press her more into him, moving up to her chin to gently gnaw on it as she came back from her pondering. "Yeah well-shut up!"

She leaned back a little, exposing more of the column of her throat to his lips. Initially, he thought that she wordlessly allowed him to continue his ministrations, but previous actions told him otherwise. Quicker than he could try and restrain her a bit better, she reared back and headbutted him hard on the nose. Man, he couldn't relax around her for a minute, always scheming and contemplating on doing shit to get away. Despite all that, he did like that wild fire she had embedded in her, but he felt that it was about time to tame the blaze a little bit. His nose did have ebbing throbs from where it connected, but it wasn't broken when he felt around it to make sure.

The fleeing woman had reached her car door, half-running, half-hobbling since she landed that attack on his face. The car door nearly ripped open as she jumped inside, inserting the key into the ignition, putting her foot on the brake and roughly turning the automotive beast on. She threw the gears into reverse, smashing on the gas as the force of the start threw her towards the steering wheel, and the startled bump she felt _after_ threw her in the opposite direction.

Blue-black tresses whipped around a startled visage, blinking twice as a tall figure leaned against the trunk, like if her car was being pushed because it stopped, except that it _was_. At first, she thought she hit a tree, but since this large expanse in the front of his property was the driveway, that really wasn't the case. This bastard had somehow managed to bypass her and sneak up behind her when she didn't even see or hear him.

A small smile was plastered on his face, hands evenly placed on either side of the back of the car just standing there. Her eyes were locked evenly with his, her breathing low and collected, the the process of pondering her next move. However calm she appeared, Anaya was still astonished by the sheer strength of this man. He was able to stop her car just by shoving his hands out and giving a little oppositional force. Just who in the world was she up against? Someone from the military? Some guy who worked as a mercenary? A deranged sociopath? A militant, mercenary sociopath? Yeah, that works.

A masculine throat cleared, his form propped up by his elbows resting on the back of the car. Those gray eyes penetrated into hers; tempting, daring, wishing that something more was thrown his way. She knew the look in those eyes for she often felt the same way. On various encounters, when she felt a little playful with her prey, her whole aura just took on this predatory yet playful nature, entire mounds of fear built up inside of her prey until she pounced and gave the final blow. Only in this situation however, she was the predisposed victim and the _predator_ wanted to _play_ with her. To confirm her thoughts, he beckoned his index finger in a playful manner, challenging her to continue on with her escaping actions so he could further humor himself.

"I don't believe this," she said with a scoff. Turning back around in her seat, she looked around the landscape for another way out. His house sat high up on the hill, and the only way out was the way up here...wherever that was. His backyard had about fifteen feet of low underbrush before it became bombarded with intimidating thick foliage and trees. And then, depending from the view, the hill sort of _disappeared_ from view, like if she were to go any further out she would fall _off_ the cliff. She could keep going the way she intended to, but would she end up going in circles when she first ventured out here? What if she fell off of a cliff and then he brought her back to do the same thing?

"Stay and humor him or fall off a cliff" she thought out loud, weighing her options and seeing which one would get her out of here. All though, when she weighed the results of those options, it _did_ seem like he would come out with the upper hand in both scenarios.

"Well just fuck it then."

Her foot barely touched the gas pedal when she was smashed into the steering wheel; the angle of the car keeping her that way with her full front blowing on the horn. From her frontal view, the ground seemed much more closer due to her newfound, heightened angle. "What the fuck?" her head tried turning to see just what had happened but didn't get the chance to. The car was lowered down with such velocity that it propelled her to bump her head against the roof of the car. She heard the door being wrenched open, too slow to react to the sound when sharp nails dug into her scalp, pulling her out the car, arms and legs flailing in protest.

Standing her up on her feet, he offered his own head butt to the bruise on the right side of her temple. Her body reeled back to the car, vision spinning around when a powerful pounding erupted on the sore spot. Strong legs felt heavy, no longer able to support her weight in the course of sagging to the bottom. There wasn't any point in fighting him further for he conveyed the impression to be a step ahead of everything she did. Bewildered, she found it a little...difficult to understand what was happening to her in life, or more specifically, in this current position. Day to day she lived doing nothing special. A few outings with trips to the spa, trips around the world, a kill to feast on...nothing really exciting happened since she's the only one of her kind like her. If she wanted to snag Valerie and jet-set with her everywhere. She had the option to, only she didn't want to stop her from living her life, no matter how shameful it was.

And then this guy came along, so much like her in mutant abilities and so unlike her in social instances. Perhaps that's the excuse why she...interacted with him in the manner she did. Wanted to get to know him a bit better despite all that happened. Or, was all this to put some excitement in her life? At first, that was what it looked like, but now it just felt tasteless. Stubbornness was a trait she bore well and sometimes her strong will backfired on her. She liked being in control of her being for it assured her that she was in control of her fate. To not be in control meant that one was weak and couldn't handle the various entities of life, be it bad or good. That drive, that will that she had to push through any obstacle stood on pause due to a hit to the temple that blurred her vision. Nevertheless, that vision was blurred _first_ when she didn't call it a day in that alley...

Anaya crawled on her hands and knees back towards the driver's seat, desperate to hold on to that willpower that quickened to depart from her grasp. Ample hips were gently held and hoisted, a strong body pressing behind her as her legs failed to hold all her weight. The burly body, along with hers, was nudged back to the house in a quiet but limpy stroll. Those giant hands were wrapped securely around her waist, her head slack laying against his chest. Purple eyes closed as she tried to stop her mind from swirling. Her psyche raced with options to try and flee; give in and submit; talk some sense into him; rationalize with him before she lashed out at him. Pulsating discomfort silenced her thoughts, forcing her to think of nothing cunning for the pain continued to wear her down.

Cool, hardened floor tingled her hot feet before soft, comfortable flooring came next, automatically knowing that they were back in the living room but not realizing how they got there so quickly; mind a jumbled mess in the process.

Thighs hit the corner of something firm when her upper half bent forward by her neck, crushing her face into soft pillows on the couch. His length grounded into her; the thick cotton of the robe too bulky to feel the hardness completely but thin enough to know its presence. That little notion caused a spike in her scent. That knowing aroma that sent victor into a lust-filled haze; to conquer that lust-filled haze then he was in its presence.

In his bout to quell what had often not be controlled, Victor's rare generosity and his sometimes delicate, heavily harsh exploration the flesh had also made him target the innocent ones. For Victor, sexual pleasure consisted not only of lust but of flippancy; depraved play and a perverse, detached curiosity. There, he could be as inventive and imaginative as he was unscrupulous, as adventurous as he was amoral. Those women he took advantage of were the ones who tried to deny his sexual fulfillment; that need to be in control of lust instead of _it _being in control of him. Sure, the sweet ones allowed him to bring out this lewd side when his libido raged on, but the drive that women like Anaya had just sent his blood boiling, when he had the patience for it of course.

She must have realized that she was nude underneath for she tried clutching the bottom half of the robe. He laughed at her effort, taking the bottom of the thick cloth and flinging it over her back. A squeal of embarrassment escaped her smothered lips, yet he didn't know why she was quipping. That's something she should be moaning about, having a real man appreciate the curves of a real woman. There wasn't any bulk on the frail, just firm muscle. The flesh on the lower half of her body was pronounced and defined, but not to the point that it was considered unattractive. Her legs were very shapely and strong; long limber things that were only stopped by the floor. But that ass...

He couldn't help but squeeze those massive globes and watch her involuntarily shudder. A large had slithered down her straight back and grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling her arched back towards hi,. Then finally her head. "You need to something to shut that tap up and just...enjoy what I do to you." With no sound made he lightly moved away from her and turned her to face him, looking in her glazed over eyes. She looked at him, or at least looking like she was deep in thought about something; blanking out his existence is more of what she was doing.

"How did I let you overpower me?"

Those words triggered a feeling within him, that lust-haze growing stronger and stronger, growing with such velocity that he needed to take a couple of breaths to steel his nerves under control. Her weakness soared as a bursting display and it called to his inner devil to claim it for all its worth. Just that little question seemed to let him realize that she submitted to him, tired of trying to deny him, and just maybe, herself.

In a move too fast for her to comprehend, her back was pinned against the wall, legs open on either side while he pressed against her to hold her up. Her eyes blatantly avoided his, staring right at his collar bone for he continued his assessment of her. Victor fingered a few locks away before her head snapped to the side. Unfazed by the move, he continued on with his ministrations, wanting to take in her features before he got down to business. And once again, that stubborn fire of hers would not cease to flare down for nothing. Those lithe fingers started scratching and slapping, pushing his shoulders away with her face evading his touch all together. As she fought to prevent the inevitable from happening, he kept increasing his enthusiasm on her until she gave in. Of course he would have his satisfaction from her no matter what happened, but he appeared to find a great joy in toying with her.

Their actions had persisted greatly, Anaya providing weak, defensive attacks and Victor nearly overpowering her with offensive ones. She grew flustered because he was unrelenting with his persistence, finally giving up by turning her face to the left and leaving it there. Her debility only made him attack stronger, drawing back a little before diving forward to suckle on her neck. The unexpected movement caught her off guard, responding by drawing her knees in further and quivering from the sensation. Deep chuckles reverberated in her neck, strong hands running along the outside of her thighs to cradle her buttocks.

A harsh whisper expelled from her lips, turning towards his ear before she exhaled in a hushed tone. "Just do what what you want let me go."

Perhaps she was running off at the mouth, sound thoughts not being fully processed in advance to speaking what she felt. If it just so happened that he sexually imposed her to give in, highly likely now, she could withdraw from herself emotionally. Negative emotions expressing anger or rebellion only pressed to fuel his desire. Giving in to him would only kick up his ego to the highest of highs. So in essence, she lost this battle no matter what route she chose. Going along with this façade didn't sit well since the whole fight would have been all for nothing. But really, what option did she have other than to keep resisting him?

"Don't know why you resisted in the first place. _That_ was a stupid thing to do." Revolting eyes and pressed lips met his smug visage, knowing that he would just ignore her if she started hitting him again. The look in his eyes spoke of no remorse, no feeling of guilt of what happened to her regardless of the outcome. Long as he was able to pleasure himself, then he didn't care what happened. Maybe that's the reason why he was able to kill and manipulate so easily. If he cared about something, then there would be hesitation and caution that needs to be heeded. It comes naturally when someone cared. Yet since he didn't consider those actions or hold them at face value, he could achieve those ghastly actions without becoming bothered by it. That may have been true now, but what about the dream that she had earlier? What about the boy that he seemed so protective of in the memories she recollected? Judging by the way he interacted with him, he _cared_ about the youth deeply and that looked to be something he kept buried intentionally. Perhaps there might be a way out of this after all; she could use that memory and confront him about it.

Gripping her under her thighs, he moved towards the bedroom to finish what he initiated, noting the way she gave the feeling of being calm and accepting that she wasn't getting away from him any time soon. Nonetheless, he would hold his guard up in case she attacked. She always showed the signs to do that when he expected her to be docile.

Withdrawing her telepathy from within the scope of his mind, she internally smiled for he still expected her to do something slick. All she had to do was continue this defiant stride until she brought up the subject of the dream.

The feral dropped her unceremoniously in the middle of the bed, clutching the belt of her robe as she put her feet up against his chest and her hands oppositional to his shoulders. He gazed down at her stilts, seeing how the robe opened to lay on either side of her body. But when he looked at her face, her head cocked to the side with her eyes giving him a warning look. A look that said "don't even think about it." And in response, he cocked his head to the side too, giving a toothy smirk before he ripped off the robe's belt.

Anaya scurried to the opposite side end off the bed, keeping the thick cloth wrapped around her the best she could. A replay of earlier happened as her leg was grabbed again, kicking out the other leg to try and hit him, _unintentionally_. He took the bait, pulling her into him, causing her to keep her hands on the robe. Anaya wanted to shrink away from his touch, squirming slightly when his hands traveled beneath the robe and groped her derriere. Her eyes remained shut, listening to the way her body came alive, surrendering to the pleasure that was thought to be lost. It appeared to melt, no longer controlled by her while Victor kneaded her backside. Eyes looked past his shoulder, forcing her mind to focus on the task at hand instead of the wondrous feeling arising throughout her being. She just had to; staying focused was her main priority to leaving from here. It was on her mind ever since she woke up.

In the quiet of the room, broken by his low pants and her stifled moans, the mutantess briefly thought about her resentment of him, or lack thereof in that moment. If there was one thing in life that she learned was that holding a grudge never suited her well. Certainly gave her a hobby for when someone pressed on her nerves, though. Many years have passed since she was a youth, and she still had so many more to go. Challenges were sought when she wanted some excitement in her life. Using that principle now, should there really a cause to hold a grudge over this man? After all, she outlived most of her oppressors, so in the end, there wasn't a need to feel anguish towards them; laughing at their mortality rate was suffice enough for her payback. Had she been some average human then she she would have scaled the rough landscape to her freedom. However, since she wasn't the average specimen on earth. She could endure a little more...drama than the average person. By no means did it give him the right to violate her in the manner that he did.

Lips traveled down a smooth neck, teeth lightly grazing the column, lowly growling for he felt her relax some. Time was something that the colonel had the aspects to control at his will, leaving Victor without the time that he wanted to unwind in his own way. Case in point, the quicker she stopped putting on a front, the more he could get out of her.

The vixen must have read his thoughts for her hands slowly came unclenched from the robe, crawling to rest around his neck, causing the robe fall open. Her front rose and fell with each calm breath, body settling down from its timid state to lean against his own.

"Now, that's a good girl," he crooned leaning towards her, face nuzzling between the valley of her breasts; inhaling her own fleshy scent before he explored her in depth.

"I may be a good girl, but how long is it destined to last? I've never really played docile once I've been tampered with." Despite the fact that it was said in a semi-playful, seductive tone, her message was very clear. After having stroked his flames of lust, she would pull out her trump card and be done with this. Mindful however, to keep on her toes for those last attempts of her feminine wiles didn't really achieve its original purpose. He was quite astute for a brute, she's give him that much.

He pulled away from her long enough to see her heavy, dark-brown tipped breasts, lightly nipping one until he heard her gasp before he moved on to the opposite one. "Well let's hope for your sake that you play nice this time around. _I _may not be so forgiving it you don't be still." Again he began to caress her, eyes open to watch her reactions to get a feel for her state of mind. Letting his defenses down was something he would forgo in the event that she couldn't be trusted. When he believed her to be placid enough, here comes an act of resistance to throw him off.

Anaya met that gaze head on, offering no facial expression to his words. There was something magnetic about him that she couldn't quite place; a certain homey charm he possessed that was buried deep inside his soul. She had seen glimpses of that charm under all that bravado he had, and there was a small wonder as to whether he would display more of that on his own or if she would let him.

Entranced in her own thoughts he kissed her, massaging his lips against hers and kneaded her hips. He rolled them over, settling in between her legs, moving ever so slowly on down her curves. Victor trailed down her stomach, mustache tickling her torso the more he roamed around her midsection. Special attention was paid under the area of her navel, biting and suckling at the spot and enjoying the way she jerked and flinched under his touch.

His hands felt everywhere on her; touching, probing, rubbing, feeling. Mildly exploring the crooks and lumps that was the form. The vixen's body seemed to release whatever remaining tension it had inside her, allowing him to be closer to her more than before. Small, deep chortles had erupted from the confines of his throat, starting her out of her comfort zone to look down at him. He retreated lower and lower, eyes staring straight into hers as he hovered above her warmth, running his hand along the slit to see how damp she was.

This came as a surprise, being serviced in such a fashion. Had she known he was going to do this to her, she might not have resisted so much! Any man that went down on a woman on his own will... that's a keeper! Oh, who was she kidding? It didn't matter if he treated her to a full-out massage or the like, he offended her and this little fact stopped her from agreeing to do anything.

The feral pressed his mouth against her wet folds, holding her by the thighs for the sudden sensation made her scoot away from him. She recovered from the arousing feeling, sitting up with her elbows supporting her upper weight to voice her complaint."You know, I don't have pre-marital affairs on the second date. This is going all against-"

"Too bad for you," he retorted, crouching above her like some triumphant beast. He continued, "I don't play by any rules. Well, at least if I have a stake in it, then yes. But you my dear, oh you'll be seeing things my way."

He dove down towards her, latching on to her collar bone while sharp incisors bit into brown flesh. Hands naturally came up to push away at his face, body starting to resist his touch now that a little aggressiveness was added into the mix. In his mind, turnabout is fair play. He lured down her defenses and then striking back when it wasn't anticipated. She loved doing that shit to him; he just returned the gesture...and then some.

Her hair was a sea of soft, plush waves. Perchance that was the justification why his fingers ached to feel them as he grabbed the strands, oblivious to her protesting snips as he pulled her to the floor. She must have landed on her bad side; staying on that floor when anguish registered on her face. To prevent her from gaining any sort of upper hand from here on out, he had to make this little endeavor quick; deflating whatever hidden fire she had rising within her. There was a high probability that she would hate him from now on, if she didn't already. In the end, he looked out only for himself, especially when it came to his livelihood. And being brought up in the way he was, he learned that it was a take or be taken world. Hell be damned if he were to be taken advantage of by the likes of anyone.

Victor lowered himself on the bed, placing his leg on either side of her prostrate position. Fingers crept towards his length, squeezing it once in anticipation for what she was about to do. The zipper pulled down while he grabbed her, pulling her onto her knees, cupping her chin in his one hand. She tried pulling away but a solid kick to her ribs stopped her rebellion. Victor gained a hold of her again, leaning down to reveal his superiority to her.

"You know, I could have suckled on that sweet pussy of yours until you were raw with pleasure, but since you like to play around so much, that opportunity has come and gone." Reaching down to grasp his sex, he held it up to her bleary eyes, letting her soak in the role of who was going to be pleasing who. "Now however, if you would so oblige, is the time for me to get some lovin' in." There was a smug look in his visage, hidden over a more threatening, dangerous look that possessed the feature to pierce down to her core.

Ebbs of pain were felt in her ribs, vision swirling as the pain only seemed to increase instead of dulling over. The hit wasn't enough to actually injure her, but it proved enough to cancel any more ideas she had about defying him.

Then that time came where she had to blank her mind out from the sudden feeling of something surrounding her lips, or rather, in her mouth.

Feeding into his anger and dominance was something she would not commit to. His strength demanded her submission, surrendering her moral responsibility to fuel his desire. It may deter him however, if he witnessed her un-enthused notions of this indignant act; the mutantess wasn't going to put any effort forth that came along with it. Nevertheless, he appeared to be the type that didn't care what happened out of this forced action, as long as he received what he wanted then...

His hands held her tightly by her hair, controlling the speed with which he entered and exited out of her moist cavern. She made sure to keep her hands planted in her lap, refusing to touch him as he continued. Her eyes remained closed, mind devoid of any thoughts while he seemed unbothered by her silent protest. Or more in fact, he seemed amused by it.

Laughing darkly, he gloated at her. "You've got one _hell_ of a backbone on you. Always showing off your ass-" He entered her deeply, hearing choking sounds exploding from within her throat, lithe hands coming forward to brace herself against his knees. "-when you think it's working in your favor." Victor let her go with a harsh push to the floor, looking upon her wet warmth that lay exposed before him.

The mutantess had a coughing fit, lungs exhaling out air more forcefully since the injury to her side still throbbed. Against her body's will she scooted away from him, not even caring that the robe was open to expose the full of her. Now was the time to get away from him before he started his assault again.

In all honesty, what he did to her came as a surprise. She knew that it was going to come down to that, just that she didn't expect him to do so that quickly. A rising anger brewed in her being, overcoming the emotion of being scared of him and his bullying ways. Blame became something she needed to fault herself with. Life for her earlier on meant nothing more except fight or flight, one of the important keys to survival when one had limited resources. When her resources were limited with options a couple days prior, where was the option to take _flight_? Instinct was something she relied upon heavily and it rarely let her down, however she was blinded by some fool and his animalistic charm , thinking that she could take on this beast. In bereft of following her instinct she wound up with no one to point the finger at but herself.

Anaya had drawn in a deep breath and allowed herself the luxury of a true feeling coming forth; for just a few moments she would allow herself to hate _herself_ for what she permitted him to do. For permitting herself to ignore intellect and trap herself into this.

The feral's angry, lustful eyes stared down at her, standing up to walk over to pick her up. She straightened up some and said "stop," holding out her hand before she clutched the robe around her . He rolled his eyes at her attempt to conceal what was revealed; he had already seen the exotic landscape that lay under the thick fabric. He hoisted her up and threw her onto the bed, getting ready to plunge into her velvet tightness when her next words had stopped him, bringing old wounds to the surface.

"I'm pretty sure Jimmy didn't tolerate this shit when he didn't follow your orders!"

He stilled his approach on her; the words from her mouth sending all of his nerves on alert. He backed away, expression settling into neutrality but the rage he felt sent him boiling. Very few people knew that he and James were related, save for Stryker, the team, and a few government officials. Who was she exactly and what made her bring up his past like that? Despite what she said, there was no need for manipulation, just brutal honesty and surviving by any means necessary. Oh the memories that flashed in his mind were not needed at the moment, and he would make sure they wouldn't surface again.

In a move too quick for her to evade, her throat had been grabbed forcefully, dragged to the wall while she was lifted, erection rubbing against her leg for he was too angry to tuck it away. The forefinger pressed to her throat, disabling her from breathing as his grip tightened.

"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded, pressing his grip tighter when she failed to answer. Realizing his error shortly thereafter, he loosened his finger to allow her to talk.

The vixen didn't answer his question initially, instead opting to answer the one she knew that floated on his mind. "The memories of those...bitten are seen by me, but only for some time until I-argh...I forget about them." Her eyes were welling up as the force of his grip tightened once again, not knowing why the choking continued. Okay, the name brought up must have left a sore on him, but she answered truthfully. It appeared that he had just found out that she had some offshoot form of telekinetic ability...and that was the reason why he was angry?

The wary look on his face didn't dissipate while he considered the validity of her statement, wondering if she had telepathic abilities and how far did they extend. For her sake, she had better answer the next question correctly or else she came under the risk of getting killed prematurely.

"If you treat people...in a manner such as this, it's no wonder why Jimmy isn't around." Though she didn't know the specifics of _who_ or _where_ Jimmy was, something unknown told her that the two had a falling out of some sort, what with the way the brute treated people.

Brute. Ha.

After all this time spent together, she didn't even know his name. Nothing around his home, such as papers or documents, were found with any sort of a name on it.

She predicted that he wouldn't like that answer and choke her until she passed out. There was only violence to come out of a statement like that, which was the result of her realizing she probably wouldn't make it out of here alive. Might as well go out with a pathetic attempt at a fight then none at all.

A pull forward was all she received before she was thrusted backwards; the sound of plaster falling thickly from where her head connected to the wall. The metallic scent of blood became present while she fell to the floor, blackness taking control of her sight as her body turned numb.

Victor raised his eyes from her fallen form, seeing the trail of blood dripping down the wall. That scene reminded him of the many fights he and his brother fought together, where their enemies' blood tainted the earth in waves of crimson. Now, it was all a distant memory, flashing pieces of a past that wanted to be forgotten.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter came harder than the rest, maybe because I worked on it and stopped, worked on it and stopped,so I really wasn't satisfied with the end result. I'll probably go back later and see if I can change it for the better. I guess that's me just not feeling that it's not the right thing to say...or something. I don't know. **


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